Never Coming Home
by XO93
Summary: "The moment I stepped off the jeep, I knew that I had made the biggest mistake of my life." Easy's new field nurse is in for a ride. Liebgott/OC/Spiers
1. Chapter 1

In that strange place between awake and asleep, I thought I was back in Mississippi. I heard my mother banging pots and pans around downstairs, my sisters fighting for space in the bathroom mirror before we went to church. I felt the smothering heat stick the blankets to my legs as I rolled over in bed. I burrowed my face deep into my pillow and groaned.

I didn't know which reality I would have preferred. To be home where my mother's frown lines asked me daily if I had found a beau, where my father would cuss at the table and slam his hands on the counter when he was angry with his supervisors at the bank. Where Elise, my older sister, would sneer at me across the room and deride my lack of womanly charm that she seemed to think she possessed in overwhelming quantities. Or to be here, the "here" that was quickly worming its way back into my head. Toccoa.

A pillow smacks me in the side of the head. "Ugh!" I exclaim, grabbing the covers and throwing them over my head, making a protective cave from the attacker, the men, the camp, the world. "No! No!"

Gene laughs. "Get up, we have to report in thirty minutes with the men to Sobel for morning inspections." I peek out of my cave and glare. Gene stands in my nurse's quarters already dressed and ready for the day, and the inspection. Shit. I had forgotten all about it. My uniform wasn't as fresh as I would have liked it to be, and there was a bloodstain on the right sleeve where I had done emergency stitches on Christenson the day before.

"Okay, Lord have mercy, I'm getting up." Gene continued to stand there. "Would you mind getting out so I can change?"

"Oh, sure, sorry about that," he strolled over to the door. "Not sorry about the pillow, though." He turned around and smiled gently.

"You better watch your back, boo," I hollered at his retreating back. A happy chuckle floated back to me. Gene was a blessing, really, ever since my first day. I sighed as the memory replayed itself in the back of my mind.

* * *

Like the good little nurse I was supposed to be, I decided I would come into Toccoa with a new attitude, setting aside my previous sass and wit that often got me into trouble during training in Atlanta. I thought a docile woman would make an easier transition into the field nurse position for these men, especially since they were being worked so hard. And especially since I didn't want to seem overly friendly and appear to be fraternizing with them - I knew for sure that I didn't want a reputation.

The moment I stepped off the jeep, I knew that I had made the biggest mistake of my life. It was like I was walking under one of those flashing neon arrows they have in Times Square, the world "VICTIM" in big lights hovering above me. As I stood there taking in the half-built quarters under the mountain I had been told was called Currahee, every man within a seven foot radius stopped and stared. A few began to laugh in that bawdy way boys do, and my stomach sank. Oh, shit.

I took a deep breath and approached the least menacing-looking men in the bunch. "Uh, excuse me," I said, glancing cautiously between the two, whose eyes lit up like they had won the lottery. "Can y'all tell me where I can find Colonel Sink's office?"

The shorter man smoothed his floppy brown hair back and grinned. "Well sure, beautiful, I can take you there," he said smoothly, and I had to restrain a snort. "Muck, you wanna go tell Winters that I'll be a little late?"

"Your funeral, Luz," Muck replied before giving me a once-over. My eyes narrowed a bit. "But I don't blame you one bit." He winked and walked off. Luz looked past my shoulder at my bags that sat on the tarmac. "You need help carrying those, miss?" I grabbed my suitcase and hefted my field bag over my shoulder. "I've got it," I said with a smile. Luz grinned back. "Should known you were no lightweight if you're gonna run with us," he said, motioning me to follow.

We walked down a dirt road towards a more established building in the distance. "So how much does that thing weigh?" Luz said, motioning to my pack warily. I shrugged. "On a good day, probably around twenty-five pounds, depends on what I need," I said, squinting my eyes against the glaring August sun. "I'm a field nurse, by the way."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that one out. But I'm still trying to figure out what a dame like you is doing at this place with us. We're the toughest division in the airborne, going to be pretty hard to keep up," he said proudly. I had heard the rumors about the 506th regiment from the other girls at training school, about the crazy drills and massive amounts of physical training the men were going through. The challenge had intrigued me.

"Well, I don't know what you see, but I'm pretty tough for a girl," I said as we slowed down, waiting for a crowd of men in white shirts and blue shorts to cross the road in front of us. A few glanced our way, but most looked angrily down at the ground. Rough lieutenant, I guessed. "Been around guns, got two older brothers who like to fight, and I'm not afraid of the dirt and bugs." Luz laughs as we cross the road and near the office. "Then by all means, you're welcome here. I'm George Luz, by the way," he says, extending a hand. I set my suitcase down and shake his hand happily. I like him already. "I'm Eloise Saylor," I reply, smiling for the first time that day. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course," George says, walking off. "See you around, darling." He smiles cheekily. I roll my eyes but smirk back. He's a good guy, I can tell. Maybe a little optimistic, but good nonetheless.

I climb the wooden steps to the office door and enter the air-conditioned space, sighing in relief. The inside is cool and dim, a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat outdoors. I set my bags down on the bench next to the door, and begin to wander down the hall, looking for the colonel. I hear his familiar gruff, gravelly tone from the last door on the right and straighten my uniform.

"...he'd be proud to get them from you," I hear him say, and as I round the corner I see him giving a tall, dark haired man a pair of lieutenant's bars. I knock on the door politely. Sink and the man turn towards me, and I salute appropriately. "Colonel Sink, sir," I say. "I'm here to report for assignment."

Sink's perma-frown melts slightly. "Sergeant Saylor! Good timing! Captain Sobel, this is Sergeant Saylor. She's going to be Easy Company's new field nurse, and I'll be damned if she's the best of the best." Sobel exchanges a hand and I take it, grimacing as he squeezes it slightly. "She's invaluable in the field, seen her in action myself."

Sobel's eyebrows crinkle. "You've been overseas, Sergeant?" he says, voice a little strained, the 'sergeant' strained through his teeth.

"Only for a month, sir. I worked in a field hospital in Cannes, hands-on learning," I reply cheerfully. "But no combat experience. I would like to learn that along with the men."

Sink nods approvingly. "She's got a good attitude about her, captain. She'll join up with the company for all training procedures and exercises. I want this little experiment of ours to go so well that regiment headquarters will be even more of a force to reckon with." Sink salutes Sobel, and Sobel glances down at me with a guarded expression before shaking my hand again. "A pleasure, sergeant. I'm sure I'll see you soon."

Sink sits behind the desk and motions for me to sit in the big armchair in front of him. "I'm glad you're here, Eloise. You understand why I must be so formal, though in my eyes you'll always be a little girl running around with your pony and Glenn chasing you around." Sink chuckles. "Your father was rather reluctant to let you come, but I assured him you would be on your best behavior." He raises an eyebrow and I grin guiltily. I wasn't an obedient, or ladylike, little girl. Sink was my father's best friend from the war, and would often catch me putting spiders in my sister's bed or rolling around fighting with my brothers on the parlor rug.

"Here's the real deal, Eloise." Sink rests his elbows on his desks. "We can't afford any sort of snafus that involve you here, or for the rest of your career as a field nurse in the paratroopers. This is a special case that is being observed by a lot of important people in the division. If we can prove that men and women can work together in close contact effectively, then we could change the dynamic of the war and strengthen each company with a trusted nurse. It would cut down on men being displaced for minor ailments." He lowers his gaze purposefully. "No hijinks, Eloise. I mean it. One toe out of line, and I'll be forced to send you back to Atlanta. Do we have an understanding?"

I swallow. "Yes sir, I understand completely. And thank you again. My father will be happy to hear that you are doing well here." I motion at the office and the cabinet covered in medals and accolades. Sink laughs. "You're going to Easy Company, where Captain Sobel is in command. His lieutenants are Winters and Nixon, good men all around, the best company we have here at Toccoa. You will be in separate barracks, with the other medics. We're not that progressive." He chuckles at his own joke. "Now get out of my office and go start doing some good." Colonel Sink gives me a firm handshake, and I salute smartly. He nods his approval. "Git!"

The medic's barracks aren't hard to find, with a big red cross painted on the door. As the door creaks open, I enter a well-kept and clean space with rolled up tarp windows, a large storage room in the back with the lights on the inside. I look for an empty bed and set my things down, rubbing the sore spot on my back from the strap. The room is empty except the sound of someone rustling around in the storage room.

I walk towards the doorway, peeking around the corner. A man is on a stepladder, rearranging the boxes labeled 'GAUZE' on the top shelf. I knock politely on the wood frame of the door. "Um, excuse me?" I say. The man looks around and starts, grabbing onto the shelf for balance. "Jesus!" he snaps, frown forming on his face. "You scared me half to death, what do you need? Something for the hospital across town?"

"No, I'm the new field nurse for Easy Company. I was just wondering if you knew what the protocol was around here for getting started," I cross my arms over my chest. Ladder Boy descends and runs a hand through his black hair. He narrows his eyes at me and scowls.

"So you're replacing me?" he spits out in a low voice. His attitude makes my hackles raise. "No one said anything about me replacing anyone, I'm simply an addition," I say, lifting my chin up. The medic studies me for a moment, then nods. "Fine," he says. "If they wanna fail from the beginning then this is a good way to start." He cuts past me and my open mouth.

"What'd you just say to me, honey?" Uh oh. Here was the sass coming up. It hadn't been twenty minutes since my meeting with Sink and I was already breaking my promises. I couldn't help it. The medic froze, and then turned around, disbelief written all over his face.

"Excuse me?" A beat passes between us. "Wait...you from Baton Rouge?"

I scrunch up my nose. "_No_, I'm from Vicksburg," I say scathingly. What did that even matter?

The medic suddenly smiles wide. "My aunt's from Vicksburg," he says, walking forward. "What's your name?"

"Sergeant Eloise Saylor," I say through pursed lips, still bristling. This man was a piece of work. He extended a hand and I shook it stiffly. He frowned at that.

"Oh come on, I didn't mean it to be mean, I just gotta be on my toes for people trying to take my place, you know how it is," he said smoothly. I chose to believe him. "I'm Sergeant Eugene Roe, but you can call me Gene. I'm with Easy Company, too. Thank god we have another hospital trained field medic. Spina's good but he doesn't quite cut it." He motions to the empty room. "This is our base. Pick any bed you like, as long as it's not near the back. We use those for extra space to roll up gauzes."

I melt a little. Gene seems nice enough. I look at the beds behind me. "Which one is yours?" I ask. He kicks the one next to the cot I put my bags on. A little black rosary rattles from where it hangs on his headboard. I look down at my pile. "Perfect," I say, hauling my suitcase onto the bed frame. "Also, please call me Eloise. Sorry for being brash earlier."

"It's okay," he chuckled deeply, plopping down on his cot to watch me work. "It honestly was comforting to find a familiar accent. You don't even know how the Yankees 'round here can grate on your nerves. Hey," he says suddenly, eyes widening at my saints medals that hang from my dogtags. "You Catholic too?"

"I am," I chirp. Gene nods thoughtfully. "You're in good company," he says. "Half the boys here are Catholic, that'll warm them up to you fast, the idea of a good church girl taking care of them out there."

My stomach drops a bit. I've been anticipating meeting the men for a while, but it still frightens me a little bit to think how they'll accept me. I'm not expecting much to be honest. "About that," I say guardedly. "How do you think they're going to react to a woman being in the same company as they are?"

Gene scratches his neck. "Probably a third of them are going to ask you on a date, another third will be friendly but within limits, and the other third will ignore you at first," he says, sighing. "But if you're smart, you won't get too cozy with them. Or be personal with them at all."

"Why?" I ask, genuinely confused. I turn to look at him. Gene looks back with a guarded face.

"Because, we're in a war," he says. "Not everyone is going to come back. Our job is to lessen their pain when they need us, not be their friend. I just have to find my friends with my fellow medics" He looks down at his hands, then shoves off the bed. "Come on, you can do that later," he motions towards my unmade cot. "We're going to be late for lunch."

"Oh Lord, here we go," I groan. Gene slaps me on the back lightly. "You'll be okay, I'll even sit with you. But just this once." He rolls his eyes and I giggle. We - my new friend and I - step out into the hot sun.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm telling you guys, there's a dame here, and not just any dame," Luz says, pausing to wave his forkful of 'mashed potatoes' around imperiously. "She's gorgeous. AND a field nurse, which means she could possibly be training with us."

"I bet she'd fill out that PT uniform nicely," Muck grins knowingly, and Luz shoves him sideways off the bench.

"Hey, don't talk about my girl that way, asshole," Luz grins. I roll my eyes. Idiots.

"Oh, so she's your girl now? Since when? Seal the deal between the jeep and the colonel's office?" I say. Luz glares at me across the table.

"What's she look like?" Bill leans across his tray to join the conversation. All the other guys pretending not to listen are suddenly all ears. Even Web has taken his nose out of his diary to hear.

"Well," Luz stretches back, enjoying the attention. "She's tall and tan, long brown hair, green eyes - well, I think they're green - and a pretty face. Also curves, but not fat. Definitely not fat." He pauses and scratches his head. "She crinkles her nose when she smiles."

Echoes of 'awwws' fill the table as the men ruffle Luz's hair and laugh. Luz in love was nothing new, he regularly fell hard for every woman he came across. Though everyone made fun of him for it, he shrugged it off. "I'm a natural-born romantic," he would say, and try, try again.

"I gotta meet this girl," said Bill, looking at me. "She sounds right up your alley, Lieb, you know, with the 'curves' and all." He winked.

"I don't fuck just anything that walks, she's got to be a second Vivien Leigh to get my attention," I say, shoveling my now-cold food into my mouth.

"We're about to test that theory," says Luz, eyes lighting up as he stares at the door behind us. The whole company turns around to look with us. Doc Roe and a woman walk through the mess hall as she blushes and tucks a strand of loose, wavy brown hair behind her ear.

"Oh," says Bill. I nod my head. She wasn't like Vivien Leigh at all. She was better.

* * *

I didn't freeze up when I noticed all the men staring, but I almost did. And I didn't trip and fall flat on my ass over a food cart in the aisle, but I almost did. Gene grabbed the sleeve of my nurse's uniform before I could topple.

"Woah, there," he said, laughing. "Guess it's lucky you weren't named Grace." I huff and continue walking alongside him to the officer's area, trying to ignore the one hundred pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head. The mess hall smelled like sweat and baked beans, an unsettling combination that did nothing to ease my knotted stomach. "Should we get in line for chow first?" Gene asks, glancing at me from his peripheral vision. I just look at him worriedly. "Sure, if you want me to throw it up on our lieutenant," I grimaced. He chuckles and pats me on the back. "Officers first then." We approach a table occupied by two men, who stopped mid-chew to look silently at me. I sighed and pursed my lips, sending a sidelong glare at Gene. _Just great._

"Lieutenant Winters, Nixon," Gene says formally. "This is Sergeant Eloise Saylor, Easy's tactical field nurse." All three men rise, making me blush. The redheaded lieutenant gives me a shy smile. "Welcome to Toccoa," he says, extending a hand to shake. "Lieutenant Winters. Please, both Gene and you have a seat."

"Thank you," I say, sitting on the bench gladly. Though I'd ridden in the front seat of a jeep for most of the day, it still felt as if I'd been on my feet for hours. I looked up from smoothing my skirt down to see Nixon grinning at me cheekily. I lifted my chin and stared him down. Out of the side of my eyes I saw Gene stifle a smirk.

"So," Nixon said, grin growing wider by the second. "What did we do right to get a lady like you put into our company?"

"Last time I checked, it's common protocol to put the best with the best," I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Lieutenant Winters nodded proudly. "You got that right," he said, grinning at across the table.

Nixon raised a single eyebrow. "We're pretty sure of ourselves, aren't we?" He leaned forward, the flirtatious glint in his eye gleaming. I leaned back and flipped my curtain of hair over my shoulder, cocking my head sideways. "I'd say," I quipped, giving a once-over to his blatant advances. Sure, he was good looking with his dark eyes and all, but did he seriously think I was going to compromise my situation and flirt back? If so, he had another thing coming.

Winters cracked a small smile. "I don't think our sergeant going to be that easy to intimidate, Nix," he said quietly, eyes laughing at his friend. He seemed to have read my mind. Gene bumped me with his shoulder. "They like you already," he muttered, laughing through his nose. I breathed an internal sigh of relief. This wasn't so hard.

"So you were trained in Atlanta? Sink gave me your briefing before you arrived," Winters said, picking his fork up. I nodded. "Trained in Atlanta, spent a brief two months in France working in a field hospital," I said, grimacing slightly at the memory. I could handle the blood and the smell, but something about the moans and shrieks of the injured men stuck with me. It was hard not to get sucked back into that place, even though I had long departed.

"Don't tell me about it," Nixon said imperiously, clearly not yet recovered from being turned down. "I'd rather go into this whole thing naively. Ignorance is bliss." He swigged a sip from a flask he took out of his pocket.

Winters nodded quietly to himself. "So, you're a Mississippian? Gordon's from Mississippi, too. You should go talk to him later. Better yet - what've we got on the schedule for this afternoon?"

"A light run up Currahee, and then classroom instruction," Nixon said, wiping his mouth. "Perfect, you can run up Currahee with us and then help the lecture. It's on responding to immediate wounds," Gene said. "That is, if you can handle a six mile run?"

"Actually, yes," I said, feeling the first surge of confidence I'd had all day. "I can do that. That might help me. The jeep wasn't exactly a limo ride." I rubbed my stiff arm and grimaced.

Gene poked me in the side. "You might be eating your words later. Sobel's notorious for pushing us even when it is a 'light' run." He stood, motioning me to follow. "We'll go change, lieutenants." He saluted and I quickly followed, Winters smiling at me kindly, Nixon still sulking from his failed attempts at flirting. As we walked through the mess hall, which had emptied out during our conversation, Gene nudged me. "See? That wasn't so bad," he said, opening the door for me. "Sure," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I still have to meet the men. That's a whole 'nother ball game."

Gene nodded. "Run with them today. It'll gain you their respect if you work with them. I'll be there too, if you need me."

I grinned up at him. "Gee, Gene, if I didn't know any better I'd say that we might be friends," I teased. He just shoved me sideways, and I cackled loudly.

* * *

The skimpy little outfit that Toccoa called 'PT gear' had turned me into something akin to a pin-up, and I was not happy. I stood waiting for Gene, grumbling like an angry bear, trying to work the hem of the shorts down a little further with no luck. I was asking for trouble, and I knew it. Curves and men's PT outfits did not for modesty make.

Gene's reaction added fuel to my fire. Stepping out of the medic's barracks, he sent a wide eyed stare my way. "Damn, Saylor," he said, running a hand through his cropped black hair. "Don't I gotta buy you dinner first?"

"Oh, shut your mouth, Gene," I glared back. "I look like a hooker."

"No you don't," he replied, smiling cheekily. "You're too pretty to be a hooker." He dodged the boot I launched at his head with a laugh. "I'll see what I can rummage up for you after we run today. Something a little less...tight." I scowled darkly as he laughed.

We walked to the review area where the men had congregated before their run, waiting on the lieutenants. Thankfully, Captain Sobel was nowhere to be seen. I sighed, tying my hair back into a ponytail. Gene glanced over at my movements. "That doesn't help your cause, you know. You look like a cheerleader." I set a well-aimed punch his way that he blocked with his hand. "Simmer down, princess. Save the energy for the mountain." I sighed and followed him over to the group.

Talking died down immediately, except for Luz, who perked up considerably. "Well, well," he said loudly. "If it isn't my favorite sergeant, or nurse, or sergeant-nurse." He winked at me with a friendly smile. "Welcome to the group."

"Thank you," I said, rolling my eyes at his theatrics, which had caught the attention of the entire group. "I'm happy to see you too, I guess." But I smiled back anyway.

Gene cleared his throat. "Y'all, this is Sergeant Eloise Saylor, Easy's new field nurse. She'll be training with us and shipping out with us as well. She's had experience overseas." The men began to murmur at that, and I felt some confidence come back to me. I had shoved my hands into men's stomachs while they were still signing up for the airborne. I deserved to be here, and squared my shoulders a bit more. I nodded at Gene, and turned to the men. "I'm happy to be here," I said, looking at them all. "I'm looking forward to getting to know all of you."

Boots crunching on gravel announced the approach of Winters and Nixon, who appeared amused by the scene in front of them. Nixon gave me a suggestive eyebrow wiggle as he walked past, and I rolled my eyes. "All right men, fall out, we're doing a light run, so take it easy," Winters said, starting to jog up the mountain. I fell in right behind Gene, with Luz beside me. Soon there was a crowd around me, a silent appraisal beginning. I knew that the men would want to see just how well I could compete with them, and I knew if I wanted to gain their respect I would have to show them my best. 'Light run', my ass.

"So, Sergeant," Luz said. "Pretty happy to see you in Easy, although I'm not looking forward to seeing you get hurt training with us." There were a few chuckles as we settled into pace.

"What makes you think I'm going to get hurt?" I shot back, edging forward a little. Luz matched my pace. I'd been training with other combat nurses in Atlanta for two years, but decided to keep this information to myself. If they wanted a show, I'd give them one.

"Well, I don't know if you've heard," said a brown-haired man with pretty eyes. "But there's this thing called a _war _going on." He grinned sarcastically and I shot him a look.

"So I've _seen_, Private…?"

"Webster, David Webster," he said, jostling for a position next to me. A lanky, dark haired man shoved him out of the way. "But the guys call me Web. You can call me that, too...if you want." Catcalls and sing-songed renditions of 'Oh, Web!' rang out around us, and I laughed kindly at Web's now bright pink face. "Well, all y'all can call me Saylor, or Eloise, or Wheezy," I laughed to myself at that one. "Why Wheezy?" said the lanky man. I looked up to see him studying me. "I was asthmatic when I was a kid. What do they call you?"

The lanky man shrugged. "I'm Joe, Joe Liebgott," he said. Nixon appeared out of nowhere behind us. "Quit chatting her up and run the damn mountain!" he yelled, shooting me a competitive look and racing past me. Never one to pass up a challenge, I looked at the men around me. "Anyone want to outrun Lieutenant Nixon with me?" I asked, eyebrow raised. Luz looked as me, exasperated, while Liebgott nodded, smirking devilishly. "Let's go," he said, and we broke away from the group, racing up the mountain together.

Luz sighed as the men filled up the place that Eloise had vacated. All of them watched her long legs gain ground as Liebgott steadily kept her pace. "Gentlemen, the competition has officially begun," he said. Gene looked around, amused. "Not like any of y'all are going to win if you stay back here," he said, smirking. Immediately, the tempo of the men began to pick up as they all raced to catch up with her. Luz winked at Gene conspiratorially. Sobel could yell all he wanted, but apparently the real secret to getting the men to run faster was to place a pretty girl a few yards ahead of them. Gene snorted.

* * *

Running with her, I didn't hear anything she said to me. I only watched the way her ponytail swayed back and forth with the motion of her body moving up the hill, how she threw her head back when she laughed and became out of breath, how her eyes twinkled when she smiled. And I had no idea what I was saying to her, only that it seemed to be working to my benefit. God, those legs. She wasn't no weakling either, she could run up that hill better than the best of us, and something about that made her that much more attractive. She was tough. So was I.

How did she just now appear at Toccoa? I was a little pissed that she hadn't come to us sooner.

Luz kept shooting me dirty looks, since he probably thought I was stealing 'his girl'. He was right. I didn't care that she was our nurse, let alone our sergeant. I just didn't. It was a challenge, and I love a good challenge.

As we neared the bottom of the hill, she had become less self-conscious about the skimpy PT outfit, and wiped the moisture from the back of her neck. Sweat had always seemed so ugly to me until I saw her sweat. She frowned. "Well that didn't work," she grumbled, and then untucked her shirt from her shorts. I watched as she lifted up the front of her shirt to wipe her forehead, and caught sight of a sliver of tan midriff. Oh my God. Completely distracted, mouth open like an idiot, I stepped right into a hole and hit the ground. "Fuck!" I exclaimed.

Eloise stopped and spun around quickly. "Are you okay?" she asked, bending down to help pick me up, but I shook her off. "I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth. My ego hurt worse than my ankle, but I could see that she wasn't having it. "Can you walk on it?" she asked, holding onto my arm as I tried to straighten myself out. Her hand burned where it rested on my skin. "Yeah, I told you I was fine," I said, and tried to walk it off. Sharp needles of pain ratcheted through my leg and I stifled a gasp. Eloise gave me a disparaging look as she slung my arm over her shoulder. "Lean on me, and keep pressure off of that foot," she said, glancing up at me knowingly. I rolled my eyes, but did what she told me to do. Her closeness unnerved me a little, and I could see a slight blush on her cheek. We hobbled down the rest of the mountain to where Gene and Winters were waiting.

"Gene, Lieutenant," she said, resting me upright. "I think I found the perfect volunteer for the medic demonstration." She smiled up at me innocently, with an amused glint in her eye. I scowled back. Maybe she was less of an angel than I thought.


	3. Chapter 3

"Essentially, my job is to make sure that no matter what, you stay alive," I began. I could feel the weight seeping back into my legs after the run. I wasn't used to running in combat boots, and the blisters on the back of my heel were throbbing angrily. But that wasn't important right now.

Joe Liebgott, who probably thought I hadn't noticed exactly _why _he stepped in a hole in the first place, sat sulking on the bench in front of me. His ankle had swollen and was turning purple. I had gathered a few chips of ice in a hand towel and given it to him to hold until I showed the men how to properly wrap a sprained ligament.

"The idea of the field nurse is simple. A medic is a first responder, such as our Doc Roe over here," I smiled at Gene, using the new nickname I had learned from the men. "But a field nurse replaces the secondary steps that usually follow after a medic's initial care, steps that would usually take place in a field hospital. Unfortunately, not everywhere we go will have a field hospital." A few men nodded, drawing from their cigarettes thoughtfully.

"The objective is to save lives, with both Doc Roe and I working as a team. He will find the wounded man first, provide immediate care; I then will take over for long term treatments, if necessary. Make no mistake - I may be a woman, but I have seen the wounds this war can inflict upon men, and I am no fresh daisy. I've been thoroughly trained in every medical procedure as well as minor surgeries. I'm here to take care of you."

I pause to let that sink in, taking in the sense of relief on some of the men's faces. Even Nixon is listening, no trace of sarcasm on his face. I realized that though these men may joke around, they were serious about the war. And I was serious about them staying safe.

"Okay, so moving on, today's lecture is about treating immediate non life-threatening wounds in the field or out." I motion down towards my patient, who sheepishly looks up at me. "And we have a volunteer, Corporal Liebgott." The men chuckle as Liebgott throws me a dirty look.

"Alright, Lieb, hop up." He gingerly swings his leg over the tabletop and sighs. "First," I say, picking up a ruler I had found on the chalkboard behind me. "You're gonna want to find a stabilizer…"

* * *

I faded back into the present, where we were supposed to be standing at attention, waiting for the arrival of Captain Sobel. I had managed to scrub most of the blood out of my sleeve but there were still remnants of the light brown drops. I tucked the fabric into my fist and pulled it taught, hiding it from the front.

Suddenly, Sobel rounded the corner. Everyone instinctively straightened to attention. I waited with bated breath as he stalked up and down the aisles of the men, scrutinizing every measly detail of their uniform, weaponry, and general attitude. There was always one victim, always one example: so far, it hadn't been me.

I had expected him to pick on me on the first day of inspections and every day afterward, but he always walked past me without a single glance. "Clearly you are highly blessed and favored, Wheezy," said Bill Guarnere at dinner one day after inspections, where Sobel had yelled in his face for three minutes straight about Bill's buttons on his OD's being sewed on the wrong way. I piously joined my hands together and looked upward into the heavens. Malarkey laughed so hard he choked on his roast beef.

Sobel came to our column of men and walked slowly past us. He stopped next to Gene, but then turned around and came back to me. Though I had no weapon to inspect, I saluted and waited for the onslaught as my heart jumped into my throat.

He looked me in the eyes for a few seconds before glancing down at my fisted hand. Oh, no. A crease formed between his eyebrows.

"Sergeant Saylor, what do you have in your hand?" he asked, getting closer to my face and looking me square in the eyes. I tried my hardest not to panic. "Nothing, sir," I said in what I hoped was a neutral tone. His eyes narrowed. "Then open your hand, sergeant," he said quietly.

I let go of my sleeve and lifted my hand up for him to see. I had already said goodbye to my weekend pass in my head, so there was no issue taking the downfall. Sobel grabbed my wrist and held it up to eye level. "Whose blood is this?" he said, tone still dangerously light. I swallowed. "One of the men's, sir," I replied. His grip tightened on my wrist. "Which man?" he said, heatedly. I opened my mouth to respond, but paused. Surely he was not about to do what I thought he was going to do. "I said, which man, sergeant?" He still held on to my wrist, his whole hand wrapping around it entirely.

I sighed. "Christensen's, sir," I said. "But it was an emergency, he needed stitches -" Sobel had shoved my wrist away and was stalking down the line towards Christensen. I sent a pained look at Gene, whose wide eyes followed mine down the column.

Sobel stopped in front of Christensen and went nose to nose. "Christensen, I hear you've got nothing better to do than bloody up our field nurse's uniform. Your weekend pass is revoked, and your running up Currahee in full gear. Get going," Sobel spat, and strode away. Guilt welled up in me, but anger overpowered it. Christensen was in no shape to run up the mountain with stitches in his legs. I glared at Sobel, who seemed to be purposefully ignoring my gaze. "You're dismissed," he tossed over his shoulder as he rounded the corner.

I watched as Christensen jogged painfully into the distance towards Currahee. Nixon strolled up, followed closely by Bill who was shaking his head. "He's gone to a new low," he said in his Philly drawl.

I narrowed my eyes. "I should be running up that hill, not him," I said. Nixon clasped me on the shoulder. "It's not your fault, that crazy bastard will do anything he wants," he said.

I didn't care. "I'll catch up with y'all later," I said, walking past them and breaking into a jog. If Christensen had to run up the mountain, I was going to do it too. I ignored the protests of Bill and Nixon as I tried my best to catch up with Christensen.

* * *

Nixon and Bill were watching Eloise jog into the distance when I walked up. "Jesus Christ, she's not doing what I think she's doing, is she?" I asked. Bill glanced at me from over his shoulder. "She sure is," he said. Nixon shook his head and sighed.

"That girl," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. Something about his tone made my insides flare up and knot in my stomach. "What I don't get is why Sobel didn't punish her first."

"Yeah," I said, now considering it fully. "And what was that wrist holding thing? He's never physically touched us before."

Bill snorted. "Both of youse is as blind as bats," he said, shaking out a Lucky Strike. After a beat of silence, he rolled his eyes. "Sobel's sweet on her," he said between a puff of smoke.

Nixon's disbelief was written on his face. "No, he can't be," he said, laughing uncomfortably. "He's never been interested in any women off the base."

"Well, she's not exactly just any woman, is she?" Bill shrugged, walking off. Nixon and I stared at Eloise's retreating form, catching up with Christensen at last. She had her hand on his back and was talking to him encouragingly. "No," I said thoughtfully. "She's not just any woman."

Nixon looked over at me levelly. "You've been eyeing her too, Liebgott. I've been watching you," he said neutrally, though I could hear him assessing the threat. I smiled sardonically.

"So have you, lieutenant. You've been thinking about her ever since that first day." I stand tall and glance up into the sky.

"Well," Nixon says, turning around and walking slowly back to his quarters. 'You, me, and the devil makes three."

* * *

Christensen's stitches had ripped open by the time we had made it down the mountain. I had convinced him to lean on me as we hobbled down to level surfaces, though he had protested over and over again before his leg gave out. Though he had forgiven me, I still felt the guilt and anger flux through my blood.

At the bottom of the mountain near where the first barracks stood Captain Sobel, no doubt waiting on Christensen to descend before lighting into him again. I was not about to let that happen. His shock at seeing me accompany Christensen was apparent on his face when we both arrived in front of him and saluted.

Sobel looked us up and down. "I sent one soldier up and down came two," he said carefully. "Christensen, I hope you've learned your lesson about inconveniencing our nurse. You're dismissed." I started to walk away with him, but Sobel reached out and grabbed my arm gently. "One moment, Sergeant Saylor."

I braced myself for it. "What did you think you were doing, running up that mountain with him?" he hissed, his careful tone vanishing into thin air. I narrowed my eyes. "Permission to speak freely, sir," I said heatedly. Sobel nodded his head.

"Sir, I feel as if that punishment was unfairly pushed upon Christensen. I was the one who should have had their pass revoked and ran up the mountain since it was my negative impact on the company." Sobel said nothing, so I took a breath and continued. "Secondly, he was in no shape to run up Currahee. The stitches on his thigh have ripped open again, and it will be a miracle if they're not infected. I went not only as a comrade, but as a nurse."

"Are you implying, sergeant, that I am incapable of making a valid decision on who should be punished and how?" Sobel yelled, getting the attention of the camp. A few privates from Able Company stopped and whispered quietly. I stood taller, trying to beat down the red haze that I saw in my vision. This man was truly an idiot.

"No sir, I am just saying that perhaps you were uninformed of some of the details that made it difficult for me to understand your decision," I said evenly as I possibly could. Sobel stood huffing in front of me.

"Eloise," he said, startling me out of my haze. He had never used my first name before when addressing me. "You don't know what you're doing here. I do. I'm the captain, I make the decisions. I'm not going to punish you in front of these men. I think you know why." A strange look had come into his eyes as he inched a bit closer to me. My body instinctively froze up as I stared back at him, not understanding.

"No, sir, I don't think I know why," I said haltingly. Sobel looked down at me intensely. I felt like a mouse in the gaze of an owl. "Yes, you do," he said lowly, gaze flickering down towards my lips. I felt frozen. _Oh God, no._

"Uh...sir, um, I think we have a misunderstanding, I, um…" I stuttered, not knowing what to say so I didn't get my ass kicked by both Sobel and Sink. I backed away an inch.

Sobel broke out of his reverie to look at me with blazing eyes, the look of a madman. "We'll talk about this later," he said, turning and walking away. "Oh, and Eloise," he said, pausing to look pointedly back at me. "Call me Herbert."

* * *

"He did WHAT!?" Liebgott shouted at dinner. The whole table hushed as he shoved back the bench, hoping to his feet. "I'm going to kill him, I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"Joe, please!" I said, standing up and putting my hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit down. "Lord have mercy, you can't scream that across the mess hall!"

"Joe's right," said Bill, who had listened to the whole thing without saying a word. "I knew he was sweet on ya, but I didn't actually think he'd make a move." Luz nodded thoughtfully to himself. I sighed dropping my head onto my folded arms on the table. "What the hell do I do now?" I mumbled.

Web picked at his nails. "Well, you could always go tell Sink?" he suggested in a hopeful voice. I raised my head and shook it sadly. "That wouldn't work, I don't have any tangible proof or witnesses. Plus, that would just incur Sobel's wrath upon me, knowing that in one move I both rejected him and tried to turn him in."

Joe's anger suddenly flared up again. "You are rejecting him, right?" he demanded, hands shaking.

I looked at him coldly. "No, Joe, I truly want to be Mrs. Herbert Sobel, I want to have little Herbert Juniors with him and live happily ever after," I said flatly. Joe turned pale and glared sullenly. I could hear Bill failing to restrain a chuckle.

"Well, if that don't paint the prettiest picture I've ever seen, then I don't know what does," said Bull, all the way from the end of the table. I realized that the conversation had gone platoon-wide and I groaned.

"Hey," said Perconte suddenly, straightening up from his seat. "I know what you can do. You can get engaged."

Silence descended upon the table. "To...who?" I said, completely confused. "It's not like anyone has asked me."

Out of the side of my eye I saw Bill look pointedly at Joe, who flipped him off. I ignored them, not even wanting to open that can of worms. "Unless…" I said, an idea dawning. "Unless it's fake."

I scooted away from the table, the wheels turning in my head. "Thanks, Frank. Really," I said, smiling down at him. "I think you just saved me." Pushing past the calls of 'Hey, wait a minute!' from Joe and the laughs from all the other men, I strode purposefully towards the officer's table. Gene, Nixon, and Winters were all sitting together - technically I was supposed to sit with them too, but I preferred sitting with my men. Gene always made a face when I did, like he disapproved, but kept whatever opinions he had to himself.

I plopped down next to Gene, to the surprise of everyone at the table. "Eloise? What's up?" Gene said cautiously, aware of the manic glint in my eye. I leaned forward and smiled sweetly at Nixon. "Nix," I said, using the nickname Winters saved for him. He looked suspiciously back at me. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What do you want?" he said, tilting his head curiously. I smiled.

"I need to borrow your wife's ring," I said nicely. Winters snorted as Nixon raised his eyebrows. "You mean her wedding ring? That's a tall order."

For the first time that day, I let the panic override. "Please, Nix, I'm desperate," I said, letting the fear that was threatening to spill over creep into my voice. "If I don't have some sort of ring then he'll keep harassing me and I don't know what to do otherwise and…"

"Stop," Nixon said, holding up a hand worriedly. "Harassing? Who's harassing you?"

The table stopped to look at me, worry and curiosity painted on their faces. I froze, not wanting to say the name out loud. I didn't want to admit that I needed help, but I didn't want there to be a 'next time' that Sobel mentioned. I looked at Nixon with frightened eyes.

"Sobel," I said. There was a moment of silence, and then chaos erupted.

"I knew it!" shouted Nixon, throwing back his chair as he stood up. Dick immediately tried to sit him back down, but he wasn't having it. "I knew that son of a bitch was after you from the very beginning!" Over at the Easy tables I saw Bill and Joe turn their heads our way. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be the cause of a riot.

"No way," Gene kept saying. "Oh God, gross. I don't believe it."

"Nix," I said, grabbing his arm. He threw me off. "Lewis!" I hissed, and everyone within a five foot radius froze. Nixon had even stopped throwing a tantrum. His face had turned red. "Sit down!" I commanded, and he slowly sank back into his chair. He ran a hand over his face, his fist curling into a ball on the table. He lowered it and looked at me menacingly. "Did he touch you?" he asked, words strained through his teeth.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Not really," I said. Nixon glared.

"'Not really' is not an answer, Eloise," he growled. I nodded. "He didn't touch me, he just got very…" I wrinkled my nose. "Close."

"What's this plan about a ring?" Winters asked. "I figure that if I have a ring, I can make up a story about a sweetheart back home who proposed before he shipped out to the Pacific. We're leaving for Fort Benning in a few days, so I should be able to avoid him until then. But still," I said, twisting my hands. "I don't know whether that will deter him any." I sighed.

Nixon looked up, still heated. "You can have the ring, it ought to fit," he said slowly. "On one condition."

"What would that be?"

Nixon cracked a grin through his anger. "That you go on a date with me before we leave Toccoa," he said. Gene snorted, but I pushed him aside. "Deal," I said immediately. Gene's mouth popped open and even Winters smiled. Nixon grinned widely, and leaned back in his chair. "See, Dick?" he said. "I told you I'd get her before we left here." Winters sighed. I shook my head happily to myself and stood up to leave, but Nixon got up too. "Where do you think you're going?" he said.

"Back to my barracks, to organize my things," I said, confused. Nixon shook his head. "Not alone, you aren't." He pushed back his chair and tucked my hand into his arm. "As long as Sobel's around, you aren't going anywhere by yourself. I don't trust that bastard as far as I could throw him." As we walked past the Easy table, Joe glared daggers at Nixon while Luz winked cheekily. My eyes were starting to ache from all the eye rolls I shot at these men.

"But, Nixon, Sobel could be around for -" I paused, finally understanding.

Nixon looked at me and grinned. "For forever?" he said. I nodded. "I know," he replied, grinning. I sighed. Nix laughed and squeezed my hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**First, thanks for all the reviews so far! They are all highly appreciated, and I'm glad y'all are enjoying the story. This is sort of a project to keep me writing this summer between my fiction classes in college, so I have a lot of free time on my hands to make this the best it can be. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

I turned my hand slowly, watching the cluster of diamonds on my ring finger shimmer happily in the light of the early morning. The sensation of a ring on that finger still felt new, and through the day I caught myself twisting it around subconsciously. It didn't feel right, but neither did playing a massive game of hide and seek with Sobel, which is what I was currently doing. I stared curiously out the window of the train as the lieutenants and I bumped across the remainder of the Georgia countryside to Fort Benning.

Initially I had been excited to be allowed to march with the men from Toccoa to Atlanta, more excited at the prospect of eluding Sobel by getting conveniently lost in the crowd. I was determined that there would be no 'later' for him to get me alone, and Liebgott had adopted this policy with a frenzy. After Nixon had escorted me back to my barracks that night, he pulled out his wallet and gave me the ring. I took it somewhat sheepishly. "Thanks, Nix," I said. "I realize now that this is...somewhat inappropriate. Thanks for going along with it."

He shrugged, but didn't meet my eyes. "It's no problem," he quipped. "It's not like I have any sentimental value towards it. I didn't even pick it out." His smirked quietly at that. "Go on, see if it fits."

I wedged the ring down on my finger. It was a little tight, but it looked good. I splayed my hand out, holding it up to see the end result. The trio of diamonds glistened in the light of the street lamps. "Oh, wow," I whispered, a little taken aback by its beauty. I didn't expect to love it, but I did.

Nixon whistled. "It looks good on you," he said jovially. "Any chance you would consider becoming the next Mrs. Nixon?"

I looked at him exasperatedly, but smiled. He never gave up. "Goodnight, Nix," I said pointedly, turning to go into my barracks. He toasted me with his flask. "Congratulations again, Mrs. Montgomery!" he shouted happily back at me. I couldn't help but laugh at that one. Steven Montgomery was my best friend from back home who often sent me letters, and had become the mysterious fiance because of his convenience.

Gene had already turned in by the time I arrived. I slept fitfully that night, the security of my plot dubious in my head and haunting my dreams. In one nightmare, Sobel chased after me with a knife, threatening to cut my finger off to get the ring. In another, Steven showed up at Toccoa and we were forced to actually marry in front of the entire battallion. I woke up the next morning bleary-eyed and grumpy.

Gene and I had planned to begin packing up for our departure from Toccoa in two days time, but instead of wrapping bandages like we were supposed to, we found a checkerboard that some soldier had stuffed in our supply room and propped ourselves up on our front porch, playing round after round. I was in a winning streak, twisting the ring around my finger and chewing on my lip while plotting my next move.

"That's a strange sight. Sorta unnerving," Gene mentioned, casually waving towards the ring. I shrugged. "If it works, then I'm fine with it," I replied. I jumped one of his black checkers diagonally. He sighed. "I forfeit, you're too good at this game," he said, standing off and brushing off his trousers. "Plus, we have to pack."

"Ugh, fine," I said, packing up the checkers. It was going to be a long afternoon. Just before I got indoors, Nixon strolled up, flask in hand. "Excuse me," he called out, bounding up the steps to our porch. "Where do you think you're going?" I crinkled my eyebrows together as he blocked the entrance. "Can I get through, please?" I asked petulantly. He shook his head slowly, eyes alight with purpose. My brain finally put the pieces of his arrival together. "Ah," I said. "Our date."

Nixon swung an arm around my shoulders and sighed happily. "'Our date'," he singsonged, and I tried to shove him away unsuccessfully. "Damn, do I like the sound of that." I laughed in spite of myself. This man was certainly a piece of work.

"So, where are we going on our date?" I asked, glancing around at the scattered Easy Company men relaxing on their day off. Bull had started a game of basketball with Johnny Martin and Luz, while Liebgott and Webster were watching from the edge of the court. "Our options are a bit slim."

"I thought of that," Nixon said, steering me over to the jeeps and the army trucks. "A little bird told me you have something of an adrenaline addiction." I looked up, surprised. The other night I had confessed to Gene that my brothers and I used to sled down the bluffs of my home town and into the Mississippi River for fun, and apparently Gene and Lewis had been talking. About me. My cheeks involuntarily blushed at me being the topic of conversation. "So what if I do?" I said, unable to keep the excitement of possibility out of my voice.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't be interested in a ride on this," Nixon drawled, turning me around the back of an army truck. I gasped. A shining, newly built army motorcycle sat happily on the dirty tarmac. "Oh, Lewis," I said happily, turning around to look at him incredulously. "Did you steal this for me? I'm flattered."

"'Steal' is a strong word, doll face," he said, straddling the frame of the bike. "Now get on," he commanded, patting the back of the bike for me to hop on. "No helmets?" I asked. He shook his head, and I grinned. "Perfect."

The rumble of the bike was like the reawakening of a monster. My boys in Easy looked over to where we were, and I waved at them as they stared back incredulously. "Oh, and Lewis?" I said over the roar. He looked back. "Don't call me doll fa- AHHH!" I squealed happily as Lewis suddenly peeled out from behind the army truck, forcing me to grab hold around his waist. I smacked him in the side as I felt him laugh joyfully.

* * *

The march started well, each man in high spirits, determined to beat the Japanese record. Easy and myself included felt more confident than most in our marching skills, since we had been forced by Sobel to do excruciating night marches nearly three times a week. I fell in line, sandwiched between Liebgott and Luz, who were fast becoming my two closest friends. While they bickered back and forth good-naturedly, I let my mind wander. I had not even considered once what my family was doing back home in Vicksburg, let alone the life I had left behind. It seemed so long ago, so unfamiliar to me, that imagining myself in a dress and heels going to class at Louisiana State University felt wrong somehow. I had been a nurse for forever and yet for only a year. I shook my head in wonder.

Luz jerked me out of my reverie. "Penny for your thoughts, princess?" I elbowed him in the side. I did NOT want the nickname 'Princess' to stick. "Ouch," he grunted. "Jeez, nevermind."

"No, I'll tell you," I said, squinting my eyes in the bright sunlight. "I was just thinking about home, my life before. It all seems so strange, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," said Liebgott quietly. I looked over at him, but he avoided my eyes. Ever since Nixon had figuratively put the ring on my finger and rode away with me on his 'white horse', he had been sulking. I guess he thought that Nixon had won the battle to be 'the Protector' between them, and instead had now taken to shadowing me everywhere I went. I didn't mind, but I refused to acknowledge that is was anything more than a friend looking after me, much to his distaste. Liebgott readjusted his rifle over his shoulder. "I think about my sisters a lot."

I looked at him, surprised. "You never told me you had sisters too!" I exclaimed, smiling up at him. He looked down and smirked. "Well, you never asked," he quipped back. I felt a little ashamed for that. I hadn't asked many of the men about their lives back home because I thought it would make them homesick. Now I saw that it might have come off as uncaring.

"You have a sister? Is she taken?" Luz joked, and I scowled. "Yes, I have just the one. Elise, she's the oldest, and she's a raging bitch, too." I looked at Luz. "I wouldn't punish you like that, George. Her fiance is also just as mean. I don't hate them, but I hate them." I focused on the march instead, rather than their smug faces that floated forth from the back of my mind.

"Speaking of a fiance, has Sobel seen your ring yet?" Luz asked. I shook my head. "I'd like to stay away from him as long as possible. He'll see it eventually. Hopefully then he'll back off." I repressed a shudder. The idea of my plan failing was not something that I would let myself think about. Liebgott's knuckles turned white on the strap of his rifles. "Oh, he will," he grimaced. "He will."

We marched on.

* * *

The ultimate test came after Nixon and I embarked off the train at Fort Benning. Though his intentions towards me couldn't be called pure, I had developed a fondness for him and his wayward soul. He drank too much, insinuated everything, and was a complete smart-ass, but whatever made Winters adore him was slowly working its magic on me as well. As I shouldered my medic bag, I saw Sobel take notice of Nixon and me, and excuse himself from Colonel Sink. I looked at Nixon apprehensively. "Oh, God," I whimpered, and Nix put a steady hand on my lower back. "Play it natural," he said quietly. I nodded discretely.

"Lieutenant Nixon, Sergeant Saylor," Sobel said in greeting as we both saluted. He barely glanced at Nixon and let his eyes rest purposefully on me instead. Nixon's jaw clenched though his face stayed passive. "I'm sure you enjoyed the train ride?" Sobel asked me in a low tone. "Yes, sir," I said neutrally, boldly reaching up with my left hand to adjust the straps on my pack. The diamond cluster on the ring caught the sun and glittered so brightly I swore it blinded me momentarily.

Sobel caught sight of the ring and froze. His eyes flickered to mine as I struggled to not look like I was having a panicked meltdown in my head. Very carefully, he straightened up and regained his composure, though not enough to hide the betrayal and anger in his eyes. "Well then," he clipped, struggling to appear composed. "As you were." With that, he stalked away. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

There was a beat of silence between Nixon and me, and then we turned to look behind us. Sobel was chewing out the poor mess hall boys who were trying to move pots as fast as they could off the supply trucks. "Let's hope that worked," Nixon said, grabbing hold of my arm gently. I tore my eyes off of Sobel's retreating form and nodded my head. "Yeah," I said. I started to walk off towards the company, but Nixon held me back. "What?" I asked, confused. The mischievous glint in his eye had returned.

"I meant what I said, you aren't going anywhere alone," he said. "So you're coming with me to sort the supplies away for the jump training. And you know, if you want to sneak off for a bit -" he leaned in and whispered provocatively. "I know a quiet little corner where nobody would find us -" I shoved him away before he could finish, and he laughed loudly. I ran a hand through my hair. "How long are you going to keep trying that?" I spat. "Until it works," he said with a grin. I had lost count of how many times I had rolled my eyes, but I added one for good measure. Nix just laughed and tucked me under one arm, ruffling my hair and making me shriek.

* * *

The inside of the C-47 rattled, jostling the men and me where we sat on the side aisles. Perconte and Bill sat across from me, Frank looking a little worried and Bill gnawing on his ever-present cigar stub calmly. This was the first of five jumps we had to make today, and I was feeling thrilled. Well, except for the slightly troubling thought in my head of the what-ifs if my parachute didn't work properly. I closed my eyes against the idea of free-falling to my death. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Liebgott nudged me gently. "You okay?" he hollered over the whipping noise of the air traveling past the open jump door. I nodded and smiled reassuringly. If the men couldn't trust their nurse to be brave, then who would trust me at all? I had to be the rock.

From the front, Lieutenant Winters stood up and motioned for us to present our clips. The wind was so loud that I couldn't hear him, only read his pantomiming. We clipped up and I checked my equipment for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. I waited impatiently for the soundoff.

Toye patted my back. "Ten okay!" he yelled. I patted Liebgott's gear. "Nine okay!" I yelled forward. The column slowly shuffled towards the door. Joe turned back to wink at me before he reached the exit, and suddenly I was at the opening. I put my hands on the outside of the doorway and refused to look down. Instead, I looked up at the crystalline blue sky and waited for the command. "Go!" I heard the commander shout, and before my brain knew what my body was doing, I was hurtling to the ground.

I kept my legs straight out and my arms crossed in front of my chest, but that didn't prevent me from uttering a half-terrified, half-thrilled girlish shriek as I felt my parachute deploy and jerk me upward. I laughed hysterically as I floated downward, taking in the countryside and the sight of my men on the ground. It was truly beautiful, this feeling of lightness and helplessness and freedom. As the ground approached, I prepared for impact. That didn't stop me from grunting an "Oompf!" as my ass hit the ground in the most unattractive way. Bull and Luz, who had already shed their parachute, turned and laughed at me as I clumsily recovered. "Oh, shut it!" I yelled good-naturedly back at them as I finally got rid of the giant thing. Liebgott made his way over to me from where we landed. He smacked me on the helmet happily.

"So, what'd you think?" he said. I grinned madly back up at him.

"When can we do that again?" I was absolutely addicted.

* * *

That night, the party raged wildly. I had dug up my dusty dress blazer and skirt from where I had folded them an eternity ago at the bottom of my footlocker, and pinned my new jump wings to the lapel. On a second thought, I tossed the skirt and opted instead for my navy nurse's dress with the blazer on top. It was technically still an official dress uniform, but the navy dress was better cut and made me feel like a girl again. I was proud of myself for not only coming this far, but hurdling every challenge that had come my way, despite the Army's very antiquated outlook on women. I traced the red lipstick from a different lifetime on my lips in my mirror, pinching my cheeks and checking my updo. It would inevitably fall at some point during the night, but while I had it I was going to make the best of it.

If I had it my way, I would have been home going to the dance hall with my girlfriends. I'd be wearing my favorite cream dress and red heels, happy as a clam. The only worry I would have is whether I'd be able to get all of my work completed for my first class on Monday. I crinkled my eyebrows together. It was a strange time for me to start getting sentimental, yet here I was, staring at my reflection morosely while there was a party to be had. I scoffed at myself and waltzed out the door.

The local bar had become completely overrun by my boys. Half of them were already drunk, and the other half were quickly catching up. A band played hill music, to the amusement of the Yankee soldiers, who had never heard anything quite like it in their lives. I walked up to Bill, who was standing off and scoffing at the band with Bull. "I take it you don't like banjos, Guarnere?" I said.

Bill turned around to give me mouth, but whistled as he looked me up and down. "Look at you," he said. "And here I was thinking that I'd only ever see ya in dirty PT gear falling on your ass." I laughed and swatted at him. "There is a lady still in here somewhere," I promised. Bull nodded towards the group of officers and Gene, who were standing towards the back of the room. "Your fellas were asking about you earlier," he said, and I patted him on the arm in passing.

I grabbed a glass of beer off of the bar and walked towards my friends. "Hey y'all," I drawled, standing next to Gene. He looked at me with wide eyes. "Jesus, Mary, and the holy St. Joseph," he exclaimed. "She's a girl!" I scowled at him as he laughed. "Wow, thanks," I said dryly, taking a gulp of my drink. Gene slipped an arm around my waist and squeezed.

"You know I'm just playing," he said. "You really do look lovely." Nixon nodded at me appreciatively from where he sat, half-drunk. "You sure do," he said. "I'm proud to call you the next potential Mrs. Nixon."

"Oh Lord, Nix," I say, throwing my hands in the air. "At this point, I'll make you a deal. If by some way we all survive this damn war, and you and I are thrust together by the hand of God," I lean down and look him in the eye. "Then I might - MIGHT - consider becoming the next Mrs. Nixon."

Gene cracked up as Nixon smugly leaned back in his chair. "I knew you'd come around eventually," he said smugly. "See, Dick? I told you."

Winters rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you sure did, Nix," he says, looking at me bemusedly. "You've entered a deal with the devil, Eloise." I wave him off. I definitely need to drink more.

Just then, one of the band members pulls an accordion from behind him and starts playing. Gene and I both look at each other incredulously. "Do you hear what I hear?" he says. I nod my head slowly. "Yeah, that's a zydeco, right?" I say. Gene nods, suddenly excited. "You know how to dance to zydeco?" he says shyly. I grin and stand up. "C'mon," I say, reaching out a hand. "Let's go show these Yankees how it's done."

* * *

I was sitting with Dick, watching my fiance-of-sorts doing some sort of crazy southern swing dance with our Cajun, when Spiers walks up. He's got one cigarette in his mouth, puffing thoughtfully away while swirling his whisky around his glass. We nod at him when he pulls up a chair. "How you doing, Ron?" I ask cordially, watching Eloise's carefully pinned updo come tumbling down when Gene spins her around. I may be drunk, but it's like her laughter reverberates around the room. I grin lazily.

"I'm alright, thanks," he says in that quiet way of his. I nod back, still watching her on the dance floor. Ron catches my line of sight and nods towards her. "Who is that? Easy's experimental nurse?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Saylor," Dick says in return. He's nursing his soda like a crutch, no doubt annoyed with my antics and the other drunkards around him. I roll my eyes. "Her name is Eloise," I say to Ron. "Dick refuses to call her that. Says it's improper, but we all call each other by our first names."

Ron stares quietly at her on the dance floor. She and Gene have ended their dance and are laughing, trying to wrestle their way to the front of the bar to get another drink. She gives up on being polite and begins to shove men slightly out of her way, accepting a drink from Bull who reaches over to get her one from the bar. She clinks her glass with Luz's, and then takes a long pull from her beer.

"She's very good looking," Ron says neutrally. I turn to scrutinize him, and Winters shoots me a warning look. "Yeah, she is," I say. Dick intervenes quickly. "She's tough as nails, Ron," he says. "Passed all of her physical tests with the men, practically leaped out of the plane before the commander told her to go. She'll be an asset in the field."

Eloise turns to grab Gene and walks back towards us. Her hair has come down to rest in a messy halo around her face, the ends curling slightly. She's flushed from the dance and giggling quietly to our medic, speaking butchered French phrases while he rolls his eyes.

"We're back," she announces to the table. "Gene and I had to practically battle our way to the bar." She notices Ron sitting in the corner looking up at her from behind his cigarette. "Oh, hello," she says kindly, reaching a hand up to brush her hair out of her face.

"Sergeant Saylor, this is Lieutenant Spiers of Dog Company," Winters says as Ron stands. Eloise does her best to compose a proper salute, but wobbles a bit. He returns her salute, and reaches out a hand to steady her. "A pleasure to meet you, sergeant," he says quietly. She smiles angelically back at him. "You too, lieutenant," she says, finally regaining composure. "Excuse me for my state, it seems that I've had a bit more than I'm accustomed to drinking."

He catches sight of her ring. "You're engaged?" he asks, voice unreadable. She looks startled, and looks down at her ring as if she's forgotten it was there. "Oh...no, I'm not," she says rapidly. I frown. "It's just a gift." Ron raises his eyebrows. "That's good to hear," he says, and she tilts her head slightly. _Good to hear?_ I think. He's going in for my girl. I groan internally. Not another Sobel.

But Eloise isn't looking frightened, or mortified, or intimidated. She grins down at her feet and laughs nervously. Perturbed, I look down at my watch and knock back my drink. I'm not too keen on staying here and watching them flirt in front of me. I turn to Winters. "I think I'm going to head in for the night," I announce to the table, getting up slowly. Eloise nods to herself, stifling a yawn. "I think I'm going to go with you," she says. "I'll see y'all in the morning," she glances at Dick and Gene. Ron stands, extending a hand. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, sergeant," Spiers says as Eloise shakes his hand. She scrunches up her nose in her teasing way of hers. "We will?" she lets the question hang, and then grins. "It was a pleasure, you know," she says to Ron, and then turns towards the door. "You coming, Nix?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," I say. I nod carefully at Ron as I walk by, but he doesn't even notice. He watches us, watches her, as we walk through the bar and out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Gene spins me, spins me, spins me until I'm out of breath and the whole world is tilting sideways. I wasn't too sure how many beers I had put away, but I knew that they were enough to make me feel like I was floating a few inches above the ground. I giggled as we clutched hands, trying to catch our breath and smiling like fools at each other. Gene wipes a hand across his forehead and slings a careless arm around my shoulder as we both sloppily waltz to the bar. My main boys are waiting for us there, clapping appreciatively and whistling at the show Gene and I just put on.

"I didn't know dancing was a required skill for the field medics," Bill smarts off behind the rim of his pint glass.

"It's not, but it's a required skill where we're from," I drawl out lazily. Gene nods his support and I turn to him. "_Vous avez fini danser pour la soiree?_" I inquire in French. My friend slings back his head in surprise. "You can speak French?" he says incredulously. "_Oui_, just a bit," I say. "Just what I learned in passing while I was in Cannes."

Gene nods sloppily and grabs his beer from Luz who is dishing out alcohol as fast as he possibly can for the thirsty men who are crowding the bar. I gently shove through them to take my glass as well, returning to Gene and clinking our rims together. "To us," he slurs, and I begin to giggle again. "To our men, to our friendship, to your impending romance with every member of our Company." My mouth pops open at his cheeky smile and I swat him. "Eugene Roe!"

"Oh shut up, Eloise, you know it's true," he says, taking a huge gulp and motioning around the room with his glass. "Tell me there isn't one man here who would drop everything if you chose them as the lucky guy." I glance around the room, suddenly self-conscious about each and every one of the men I had become close to over the past few months. I had to admit, I had brushed off their comments about me as teasing, but what if they were serious? I soberly acknowledged that there was some advantage to being the only woman in a company full of handsome men. I feel my face heating up and Gene laughs.

"That is, if they want to fight either Liebgott or Nixon to the death first," he continues with a wink. I look at Joe, who is sitting at the bar with Malarky and Ramirez. There's a slight scowl on his face as he looks into his drink, talking to no one. My heart pinches painfully and the burn of guilt begins to gather in my chest. "I've been neglecting him, haven't I?" I say aloud, softly. Gene nods in my peripheral vision.

"I'll change that later tonight," I say, squaring my shoulders firmly. Drunk or sober, Joe was one of my closest friends here, and I wasn't about to lose him over some petty competition to win my heart. "C'mon Gene," I say, grabbing him and leading him back towards the officer's table. "Let's go join civilized society."

"If civilized means sitting down, then I'm all in," he says with a sigh. I glance back and laugh. "_Dancing with me a little too much for you to handle?_" I joke in French, and he rolls his eyes.

"We're back," I say to Dick and Nix loudly. "Gene and I had to practically battle our way to the bar." The tendrils of cigarette smoke wafting slowly to the ceiling catch my eye, and I turn to see a man sitting in the shadows. "Oh, hello," I say politely, waiting for someone to introduce me to the stranger. I realize that my hair must look like a mess and try halfheartedly to brush it back from my face.

"Sergeant Saylor, this is Lieutenant Spiers of Dog Company," Dick says, and the stranger in the corner stands and comes into the light. Hearing 'lieutenant' and swearing quietly to myself about my state, I raise an attempted salute until I look up at the man in question. And then my world stops turning.

Whoever this man is, Lieutenant Spiers, he is the most heart-stoppingly handsome thing I've ever seen. His dark hair was combed over, bright hazel-green eyes staring down at me, or through me. I realize that I am just standing there gazing at him with my mouth open like some kind of dumb cow, so I drop my salute and try to regain my composure without breaking his gaze. His hand reaches out to mine and takes it gently. He removes the cigarette from his lips, blows out a stream of smoke, and turns a corner of his mouth upwards. "A pleasure to meet you, sergeant," he mutters in a gravelly voice, low and deep. My heart beats double time and something inside of me, something that had been lying dormant and dead for a long time, flames to life again. I smile happily up at him.

"You too, lieutenant," I say, fighting through the haze. "Excuse me for my state, it seems that I've had a bit more to drink than I'm accustomed to drinking." I mentally slap myself. What the hell peice of diatribe just came out of my mouth? Damn alcohol. I put my hand up to my forehead self-consciously, trying not to cringe.

I watch his eye look up at my hand. "You're engaged?" he asks, a passive look covering his eyes, his voice carefully neutral. My head swims with this twist, trying to understand until I realize that he's caught sight of Nixon's ring on my left hand. I panic. "Oh...no, I'm not," I say quickly, realizing how stupid it was for me to wear the ring inside the bar. "It's just a gift."

I watch as a muscle in Spiers' jaw relaxes slightly and his eyes soften a little. "That's good to hear," he says quietly. I tilt my head, looking at him incredulously. What was that supposed to mean?

Ron gets up from the table, a thunderous look on his face. "I think I'm going to head in for the night," he says, looking pointedly at me from across the table. I fully intended on staying, but a giant yawn escaped my lips and I struggled to cover it. "I think I'm going to go with you," I say, nodding at him. "I'll see y'all in the morning." Lieutenant Spiers is suddenly next to me again, absorbing all of my attention away from the men. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, sergeant," he says, extending a hand. There's a shimmer in his eyes that tells me that he's withholding something. I feel my nose crinkle playfully as I take his hand. "We will?" I ask, letting the question hang. Spiers is slow to let my hand go, and it feels like it's on fire when I let it drop to my side. My heart feels like it's beating so erratically that I grin at my silly schoolgirl foolishness, but look pointedly into his eyes nonetheless. "It was a pleasure, you know," I add, blinking from underneath my eyelashes and turning away. "You coming, Nix?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," he says, and stomps away from me towards the door. I linger at the bar to say goodnight to Joe, but he's nowhere to be found.

* * *

The walk back to my barracks had been quiet. Nix hadn't said anything, except to offer me his jacket when he noticed me trying to hide my shivering. Slowly, the alcohol was seeping from my body, and I was becoming more aware of Nix's rigid posture. I heard him sigh audibly, and I looked at him gently. "What's wrong, Lew?"

The use of his name softened his shoulders slightly, and he turned his sad eyes on my face. "I can't do a damn thing about it," he mumbled. I stopped walking and stepped closer to hear. "What?" I said.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You're the prettiest thing I've seen in two years, you make me laugh and I'll be damned if you aren't more addicting than my Vat 69, and I can't do a damn thing about it." Despite his words, his eyes took on a determined sheen as he reached out and grabbed my hand firmly. "It makes me sick," he murmured. My heart melted for this man. I had been informed about his loveless marriage to Kathy by Gene after the first few weeks, when his flirting had gotten out of control. After that, I distanced myself from him and never let him get too far with his jokes. There were many things I would do, but becoming romantically involved with a married man was not one of them.

"Oh, Lewis," I said quietly, sadly. I closed the distance between us and pulled him close. He rested his forehead on mine and sighed, defeated. "I care for you, you know. I just can't be with you like that. You know how I feel."

He looked down at me, suddenly fierce. "Come over here," he said, pulling me out of the middle of the street and into the shadows of the nearest building. His eyes were sad and determined as he stared down purposefully. "Can we pretend, just for right now, that I'm not married? That you could consider me? That that ring means something?" I looked down at the piece of jewelry on my finger, startled at what it had come to signify between Lewis and me in the last few weeks. "And then I won't bother you ever again, not like this," he pleaded. I swallowed, instantly nervous. I knew that if I walked away, it would break his heart a little more. Sighing, I smiled gently and grabbed him by his lapels. "Oh, alright then," I whispered conspiratorially. Lew grinned, his devilish nature taking over. "Finally," he said, and then latched his lips to mine.

At first I was startled, even though I knew what was coming. And then I began to realize how nice it felt to kiss someone for fun after such a long time, and a little moan of happiness echoed in my chest. Lew suddenly wound his arm around my waist and twisted a hand through my already-mussed hair, tilting my head back and deepening the kiss. Something fluttered in my stomach dangerously, and my hands found the back of his neck on their own volition. "Lew," I whisper, breaking away from him momentarily, evading his lips only for him to latch them to the soft spot under my throat. I sighed involuntarily. His trail of kisses began to descend down my neck when I snapped back into reality again at the sound of raised voices coming near. "Lew!" I hissed, and he suddenly realized we're not alone. He wheeled me to the side of the building and pressed me against his chest, as far back as the shadows will allow.

I recognize the voices instantly. "I don't want to fucking talk about it!" Liebgott shouts menacingly, walking into the street light. Whatever had him incensed was really getting to him. A rogue bottle of whisky is in his right hand, as he swings the other around pointing threateningly at his antagonizer. "She doesn't like me, okay? I know she doesn't, she spends all of her time with _him!_"

My stomach dropped, and I looked up at Lew knowingly. He looked at me seriously, all traces of amorous intentions gone from his eyes. He squeezed my hand and held me a little tighter.

"Joe, you have to calm down," I hear a frustrated Luz say. "You don't know that for sure."

"Oh the fuck I do!" Joe retorts. "I tried, okay? I tried, she doesn't want me, now leave it alone." He glares off to the side, off to where Lew and I are hiding, and it feels like he knows that I'm here. Wants to direct his hatred at me. I shiver a bit, and Lew tenses.

"Why don't you go talk to her about it?" I hear Bill chime in, walking into the scene. He looks weary, as if he's been chasing drunk, belligerent Joe all night. "I'm sure she's at her barracks, you know she would want to hear this." Joe scoffs.

"And what's my excuse? 'Oh, Sergeant Saylor, I'm sorry for disturbing your beauty rest, but I just wanted to let you know I'm fucking in love with you'?" He glares. "No, she'd only talk to me if I was shot. Only cared if I was dying. Well, guess what," he pauses, walking over to the streetlight. He suddenly swings the bottle up and crashes it down on the metal pole, glass shattering everywhere. He hisses out in pain and grabs his hand, now visibly bleeding with pieces of glass shining on the wound. "I have an excuse." He walks away from the group as the other men stand there, stunned.

"Jesus Christ," Luz lets out, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm sick of this shit, I'm not going after him. Eloise will rip him a new one." He stomps off into the night, followed by Bill, shaking his head sadly.

I wait until they're out of sight, and turn to Lew, panic in my eyes. "I've got to go catch him," I say. Lew looks down, nodding to himself quietly. "Yeah," he says drifting off, and then takes a breath. "Look, Eloise, I -" I cut him off with a finger to his lips. "I understand, Lew," I say, meaning it. I kiss him gently on the cheek. "It's all okay. And I care for you. I want you to know that."

He nods and places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "I know, and I do too," he says, nodding towards where Joe stalked off earlier. "Now go catch that man before he bleeds out on your porch." He begins to walk back into the camp, when I think of something.

"Lew!" I whisper, and he turns back. "Here's your ring back." I begin to take it off my finger, but his hand comes down and stops my actions.

"No," he says, pulling it off my finger gently. "If this is supposed to symbolize love, then I want you to have it. I want you to have love." He picks up my right hand and pushes the ring onto my ring finger. "You deserve it the most."

"What makes you say that?" I ask. He frowns down at me sadly.

"Because I could tell you hadn't been kissed in a very long time," he mumbled quietly, turning and walking into the lamplight and beyond the shadows.

* * *

When I near my barracks, Joe is already on the front porch, his injured hand resting upright on the seat of the bench. He rubs his forehead with his uninjured hand, face tilted down towards the ground. I walk calmly up the steps, though my heart is pounding. He doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge my presence.

"Hey, Joe," I say, voice raspy. I clear my throat, and he looks up with dead eyes that show no emotion. I open the door to my barracks and nod towards the inside. He doesn't make a move to get up, and I sigh, exhausted. "Please," I say a little louder. "Please, come inside and let me fix you up." Leveling me with his glazed stare, he looks back down for a moment before he slowly rises and walks inside my little room.

I flip on the light switch, revealing the three cots allotted to the Easy Company medics, two unoccupied. Gene chose to move in with the officers, and Spina chose to live with the men, leaving me all by myself in Fort Benning. I didn't mind, it was nice to have privacy, especially for times like these. I motioned to one of the empty cots. "Sit down for a second while I get my things together," I say gently. Joe nods his head and complies, lowering himself slowly to the bed and closing his eyes.

I pull the curtains close on the window, then return to the door and kick off my shoes. I sighed with relief as the heels came off for the first time that evening. I flexed the arches of my foot as I grabbed the door frame for support, reveling in the dull ache.

"I never understood why you dames wore heels," Joe's voice scratches out unexpectedly, making me turn around. "Just looks like you're breaking your feet for nothing." He won't meet my eyes, but at least he's talking.

"Pain is beauty, Joe," I joke lightly, and I see one corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk. I decided to be as casual as possible with him, to make him open up and feel comfortable, for him to know I'm being genuine. I walk into the back storage closet and get out my kit. I shed the scratchy dress blazer on the top of my foot locker, and pop my neck as I walk towards him. Flouncing down on my bed next to him, I start to unpack the kit before I pause. "Hold on a second," I say, and then hitch up my hemline to take off my uncomfortable stockings, the only ones I could find thanks to rationing. Joe's eyes widen a bit when he takes in my garter, but I just unclip them calmly and roll them down my legs and off of my feet. "Ah," I sigh, wiggling my toes. "That's better."

I cross the distance to his cot and poke him lightly. "Sit cross-legged, across from me," I say, and he follows my directions without speaking. I sit down across from him, tucking my feet up underneath my dress, now spread wide across my shins. I gently reach over and take his hand from where he was holding it aloft. Looking him in the eyes, I take a deep breath. "I heard what you said to Bill and George tonight."

He stiffens slightly, but he's unapologetic. "How?" he rasps out. I open my kit and pull out a pair of tweezers, beginning to pick out the little shards of glass lodged in his cut.

"I was walking back, and I heard y'all coming 'round the way, so I hid," I said, letting my accent come out to show I was fully at ease. His shoulders deflated visibly.

"I shouldn't have said what I said. You shouldn't have heard it." His face tilts up to meet my eyes. "But that doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

I looked up as my heart took the blow. "You're wrong," I said, looking him squarely in the eye. "All of it, all of it was wrong." We stare at each other in close proximity, no one breathing. "How can you think I don't care about you?" I whisper, my voice cracking. I'm so close to letting my rogue tears spill over, but I reign them in as they glisten. I turn my face back down, letting them spill over in defeat, finishing with the tweezers and grabbing peroxide and a bandage.

Joe sighs. "You don't act like you care about me. You don't ever ask me anything, or confide in me, no matter how hard I try," he says slowly. I look up, revealing my tears. Joe looks at my face, appalled, and reaches unto his shirt pocket to pull out a handkerchief.

"Aw, shit, Eloise," he says, and wipes the tear tracks away gently. "Don't cry, please don't fucking cry. I know you do, it just sometimes feels like Nixon's already won," he says, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It drives me insane."

Through the tears, I snort. "I know," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "But you should know, I don't feel about him the way he feels about me. He's just lost, and I was trying to help him." I scowl down. "But what a fat lot of good it did me." I wrap Joe's hand up and tie the bandage gently, holding onto his hand and capturing it with both of my own.

"You need to know," I begin. He waits quietly, eyes trained intently on my face as I look down at our hands. "I care for you very much. You are the person I feel the closest to here, I would be so lost without you." He wiggles his hand out of mine and holds on to both of them, bringing our hands to rest at our feet. "And I'm not quite there yet, where you are, what you're feeling," I say cautiously. I'm still not sure whether I was ready to admit this to myself, let alone out loud to him, but I couldn't deny the developing feeling. Joe sighs, defeated, beginning to turn away, but I hold him fast and look into his face intently. "But…" I say, and trail off. Joe's hands tighten around my own.

"But what?" he says, a little breathlessly. I look up and press my lips into a slight smile.

"But...I'm getting there," I say. The room is still as we both look at each other, not quite sure what to do, not quite sure what to say. It's a welcome reprieve from Lew's constant barrage of romance, and I relax in it.

Joe licks his lips, looks down and begins to rub patterns onto my hands with his thumbs. "What do we do now?" he asks quietly. This is a side of him I hadn't seen before. The quiet, concerned Joe Liebgott, who he was inside as opposed to what he projected on the outside, only made my walls of resistance and completely platonic feelings crumble more. I sigh.

"I don't know," I say quietly, and then giggle. He looks up with a raised eyebrow. "What are we doing, huh?" I ask lightheartedly. "Are we going to start this in the middle of a war? Whatever this is?" I motion between us, and he shrugs.

"Is there a better time to do it that you know of?" he snarks, and instantly my lovable Joe has returned, smirking back at me. I roll my eyes.

"It's kind of asking for it, don't you think?" I say. He rolls his eyes. "Oh God, woman," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Are we really going to get into this tonight? It doesn't matter." He stands up and grabs his jacket, but I grab his arm. "Where do you think you're going?" I say incredulously. He looks back at me surprised. "To my barracks?" he questions. I get up and prop one leg on his cot, putting my hands on my waist. "Soldier, you're injured. You're going to need overnight supervision," I say with a smile. He smirks and tosses his head away, but crosses the room and carefully grabs me by the waist, testing the waters. "Is that an invitation?" he asked huskily. I look up and raise an eyebrow. "Only for a sleepover, Corporal, nothing more," I say firmly but with a grin. He pretends to be peeved but lets me go. "As you wish, Sergeant."

We pushed the two cots together and tossed all the blankets to the middle. Not even caring enough to change from our dress clothes, I switched off the light and made my way to the heap of bedding. Joe laid down and motioned for me to come join him. I gently lowered myself down, and nestled into the crook of his body, relaxing after a few minutes. He protectively wound his arm around my waist and under my head. I heard him sigh, exhausted from the night's dramatics.

"Go to sleep," I murmured softly. He nestled his face into my hair. "I'll only be able to fall asleep like this from now on," he whispered. "You better follow through, Saylor."

"I'll try my best, Liebgott," I whispered back. And then, the darkness, the alcohol, and the night took us both from reality and into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Once again, thank you for the reviews! I'm writing daily to get this story to y'all as quickly as possible! This is one heck of a long chapter. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The bench of the airplane rattled beneath me as I was temporarily blinded by lights exploding outside the cabin. _BOOM_. The darkness cleared from my eyes like mist, and I found myself sitting next to my men, dressed in jump gear in the middle of the night. Not a single man reacted to the sounds of explosions in the distance, and I swiveled my head slowly, time slowing down. To my right was Gene, head down as if he was sleeping. I reached out to touch his face, and my fingertips were met with ice-cold skin. I gasped as I looked at the men clearly, all unresponsive, bodies limp.

_They're dead. _I tried to scream, but my lungs didn't work properly. My hands fumbled uselessly to detach the heavy parachute from my back, my instinct to help them going into overdrive. The cabin was lit again by the flash of the artillery fire, and slowly the faces of the dead men turned to look at me. The first tingling pang of fear spread like a virus through my blood. I was trapped.

A cold hand touched the side of my face, and I jumped back. I turned to look at Gene, his milky white eyes open and staring. He pulled back his stiff lips into a grimace, revealing rotted black gums and teeth covered in blood. He's smiling, and the scream finally makes its way past my throat and out of my lips.

Something tries to hold me down, and I fight like hell. My new-found ability to scream takes over as I fight the blind panic that's settling into the pit of my stomach, the fear boiling into a nauseated concoction. "Eloise! Jesus, wake up!" I hear Joe's voice drift through the haze and I'm suddenly wrenched back into reality. The barracks are dark and his face hovers above mine, his hands holding my wrists down above my head. I can feel the cold sweat beading on the back of my neck, and I breathe heavily as I acknowledge that I'm okay, that I'm safe. Joe's face relaxes visibly when he sees that I'm awake, and gingerly lets go as I sit up, shaking uncontrollably. I clutch my stomach as it revolts, and groaning I run to the door, fumbling with the lock. I only make it to the edge of the porch before it all comes up, and I sink to my knees as my stomach heaves out my nightmare and everything else inside. The moonlight is bright enough for me to see the surrounding streets, sometime between midnight and the early morning. I sigh heavily, still catching my breath, the cold wind making me shiver.

Joe is there with me immediately, an arm around my shoulder as he grips my hand. "C'mon, let's get back inside," he says, taking note of my shaking. I nod carefully as he helps me get into bed, wrapping a blanket around me securely. The ghost of the dream still seems to move within the shadows of the building, and apprehension settles deep within me. Joe sits down carefully on our bed and grabs my hand gently. "What the hell was that?" he asks quietly. I look at him with frightened eyes as I shake my head.

"I don't know," my scratchy voice rasps. "But it was seriously fucked up." I take another deep breath. "We were all on a plane, getting ready to jump at night, and there was artillery everywhere. When I looked around, everyone who was strapped in except for me was…" I pause, hesitating. I don't want him, or any of them men to hear this, make them any more afraid of what's coming. Joe levels his eyes with mine and stares imploringly. "Tell me," he demands. I nod.

"They were dead. They were going to come for me," I said quietly. His hand tightens around mine.

"You scared the shit out of me," he admits wearily. "I thought someone was attacking you, you were screaming so loud." He runs a hand through his messy hair, and then squints at me with a small smirk. "And I was having such nice dreams," he whispers provocatively into my ear, and despite my fear, I smile back and nudge him away. "I have nightmares sometimes," I admit in a light tone, though I see him scowl. "It started back in Toccoa. I don't think they mean anything though, I think it's just me worrying constantly about y'all slipping into my head at night," I laugh quietly. His grip tightens around me as he lays back and I settle against his chest. Suddenly exhausted, I sigh deeply and nestle my head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Well, I'm here now, so no need for nightmares," he says gently, and then pauses. "And I would also like to get some sleep," he snarks, and I grin despite myself. I'll take the sweet with the sour.

"Oh, you love it," I whisper lazily. I drift out back into sleep, this time peaceful and dreamless.

* * *

I watch her carefully as her face finally relaxes, her mouth opening slightly and eyes fluttering every few minutes. Sleep, despite what I had said, was impossible after her episode. I was determined to watch over her and make sure she wasn't frightened anymore.

The moonlight drifts through the curtain and dapples across her shoulders, making patterns on her crinkled blue dress. She had looked so good earlier tonight, and I couldn't make myself go to her when Nixon was glaring at me every time I looked her way. Thinking that son of a bitch had won her at last had sent me over the edge, bringing out the volatile anger that always seemed to be on my back when she wasn't around. I reminded myself to make good with Bill and Luz whenever I saw them next.

Eloise sighed softly in her sleep, and my arm tightened around her involuntarily as I thought about her meltdown. I had tried not to seem to worried about her nightmare, but being told that we were all dead before we even hit the ground in the plane had struck fear in my chest. How often did these dreams come to her? And was there any truth to it? It sounded strange, but stranger things had happened.

All I knew was that we needed her, I needed her. She didn't know how much every man in the company respected her, liked her even, and I bet if she did she would turn that pretty shade of bright pink. True, she was a girl, but she was serious and good at her job, and she was downright intimidating when her brain switched into medic mode. She was too valuable to lose. She had to be protected at all costs.

She shifted in her sleep, her hand coming to rest on my chest. It felt good to be needed like this. If only the boys could see me now. I smirked to myself and nestled down, finally getting some shut-eye.

* * *

The train to Camp Mackall chugged sluggishly into the station, and I held my little stack of newly received letters in my hand as I shielded my face from the sun. The late June heat had turned Georgia into a convection oven, swirling the hot air around the men and me mercilessly. I unbuttoned the top button of my BDUs and fanned myself with the paper. "Can we get on the damn train now?" I gripped. Gene nodded next to me.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sick and tired of standing around and sweating to death," he replied tartly, just as sulky as I was. George and Toye walked up to us, handing out the cabin assignments. "What's wrong, Princess? Can't take the heat?" he teased, handing me a paper. "Stop calling me 'Princess', George," I said dryly for the thousandth time . He chuckled and moved on down the line.

I looked at my paper, scanning the names for my familiar E. "Alright," I muttered, shuffling in line with the boys to get on the train. "Oh good, I'm with Webster and Joe," I said to Gene, who was still searching for his name. "Where are you?"

His expression darkened considerably. "Between Cobb and Sobel," he spat, and I howled with laughter. "What the hell am I going to do for the next four hours?"

"I don't know," I said cheerfully. "Just take a nap?" His scowl made me chuckle.

I walked down the corridor of the train, peeking curiously into every compartment I passed and smiling happily at my men. I reached my compartment and saw that David and Joe were already inside, and predictably, already in a heated argument. I carefully slid open the door and closed it behind, my arrival not even making the slightest impression on their bickering.

Web rolled his eyes dramatically. "So what? It's not like we can do anything about it, so quit your bitching," he huffed, sitting down and crossing his arms.

"Do anything about what?" I piped up, looking between them, intrigued. I hadn't seen Joe since yesterday morning, when he reluctantly left my nurse's barracks. I practically had to shove him out the door, he was making up so many excuses to stick around. He winked at me saucily out of David's view but continued to snark.

"I'm sick and tired of Sobel fucking us up in training maneuvers," Joe spat, taking a seat. That dampened my cheerful demeanor quite a bit.

"What do you mean, fucking you up in training?" I said in a low tone. David looked over at Joe nervously and cleared his throat. "Well, he panics out there and we end up getting caught by the other patrol team every time," he said. My eyes narrowed at that. He was already putting the men in danger? I seethed internally.

"I'm not a fan of my men being killed, fake or not," I muttered darkly, sitting down next to Joe. He scooted an inch closer, imperceptible to Web's eye but enough to make the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I looked up at Joe with conniving eyes. "What are we going to do about that?"

He shrugged. "I could always take care of it with this," he said, pulling out a shining, new pistol. Web whistled loudly. "Got it from my folks yesterday in the mail," he said proudly.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved the knife I had kept hidden from the men. "Or I could step in and give him a what-for," I said, switching it open and appreciating the _slish _of the bright blade, admiring the way the sunlight glinted off of its pristine point. Joe leaned back cautiously.

"Where the hell did you get a switchblade?" he asked. I looked at both of them and shrugged. "It's my own, from home," I said, packing it carefully away. "I used to take it hunting, gutting deer and all that."

Web light a cigarette and snapped his lighter shut. "Remind me to never make you mad," he joked from across the compartment. Joe nudged me lightly. "Never knew you were such a little warrior," he remarked, grinning. I grinned back, shrugging my shoulders. "A girl's gotta have some skills if she's going to war. Maybe we can team up some time," I winked, turning my attention to the my small stack of letters. I picked up the familiar cream card stock from my father's desk and smiled, running my fingers over the thick envelope. Though my father and I had never been close before I shipped out to nurse's training school, the distance had made him realize that I was the last baby to leave home, and he had been voraciously writing me letters and sending me pictures since I had been gone.

Web nodded at the envelope. "Who's that from?" he asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"My father," I said, carefully opening the back of the envelope. Stuffed to the brim, I took out a letter and several photographs, and a peppermint wrapped in cellophane. I giggled as I unwrapped it and popped it in my mouth, enjoying the first taste of candy in a few months. I opened the letter and snorted. "Oh, Lordy," I remarked to myself.

Joe tossed his head. "You can't just say that and not read it out loud," he whined. I dramatically looked over at him condescendingly, but Web just encouraged him. "Yeah, read it Wheezy," he teased. I sighed and flattened the letter in my lap.

"'My beautiful girl'," I started, and Web chuckled at the sentiment. Joe aimed a kick at him. "Shut it, Web, I wanna hear," he yelled, and then nodded at me, looking over my shoulder. I huffed and started again.

"'My beautiful girl'," I began again. "'How wonderful it was for Mama and I to receive your last letter and read about all of your exploits. I do hope you aren't getting into trouble, though Bob Sink does keep us readily informed about you. You seem to be making a splash, as always.'" I paused and rolled my eyes. "Well, that's just great, can't get away with anything," I said to myself, and picked up where I left off.

"'You should see the uproar that happened in the house the other day. Elise came in all upset, sobbing something about William, and I quickly escaped to the study. It seems that her fiance has finally grown a backbone and decided to join the war effort, conveniently a month before their wedding.'" I couldn't help but laugh at this. "'Of course, the big drama before that was the lack of satin and silk to make a wedding dress that stood up to her standards. I find myself missing your company more and more each day. You were always the easy child.'"

"'Both Henry and Martin have been deployed to the Pacific, and luckily stationed on the same island, called Pavuvu. Pray for their safety, and that they somehow don't burn the whole island and the Marine Corps down playing with their flamethrowers.'" I giggled, and saw Joe's smirk. "'They ask about you constantly in their letters. I sent your letter to them when I received it, and updated them on your whereabouts. They are so proud of you, as I am. Mama has yet to stop panicking about all three of y'all catching rogue bullets and some vile foreign disease. She wants to know if you are taking your vitamins and keeping your appearance up. I don't think she quite understands the concept of war.'"

"'I miss you everyday, the chaos you created has been taken over by peace, and it makes your absence from home all the more noticeable. We packed away your college books in your room upstairs until you come home. The dogs miss you, your horses miss you especially - they always make a racket when I walk out to the barn, and shut up when they find out it's only me. I've become convinced that even the river misses you, since it has dropped down several feet and become unusually placid since you left. I am so proud of you, my darling, strong, brilliant daughter.'" I smile sadly, a little overcome from the emotion of my father's words. "'I pray every night that you are safe and happy, that you will remain safe and protected by our Lord and all the saints. Send me a letter as soon as you reach your next training camp. With all of my love, Daddy.'" I finish, looking up at the two men. Web is listening intently and Joe reaches over to read the letter for himself.

"I had no idea you were in college," Web says excitedly. I nod. "I was about to go into my senior year at Louisiana State University," I say. "Not as impressive as Harvard, but still something." He nods back. "What were you studying?" he asks.

"Art and literature," I reply. "Just like you." Web smiles fondly over at me, and I know I've made a permanent friend. It was nice to have someone around who shared my love of words and paintings.

"All you fucking college kids," Joe says exasperatedly, but listens nonetheless. "So hoity-toity." I shove him sideways as he laughs and hands back the letter. "What are the photos of?"

I open the little envelope. "Oh!" I say happily. Daddy has sent me pictures from my childhood, and I pull them out carefully. "This one's of me when I was little, probably nine or ten," I say, studying the faded picture. I have on a rumpled tinted pink Sunday dress, sitting astride my favorite pony in the barn while my father holds the bridle, his trademark pipe in one hand, smiling at the camera. I hand it over to Joe, who rakes over the photo intently with his eyes.

"This was my first horse show," I murmur, holding the photo up. "I think I just turned fourteen." My hair is in a braid and I'm smiling happily at the camera, sitting astride my favorite horse, Mister, my helmet under my arm. A blue ribbon is attached to his bridle. "I had just won my first show jumping class. I was really good. Heck, I'm still really good," I say proudly. Web grabs the photo from my hand, holding it up to the light. "Horse girl, huh?" he asks, and I shake my head. " You don't even know, I was obsessed," I say, finding the last picture in the stack. I laugh immediately.

"What's that one?" Joe says, leaning over. "This, this is the entire family, in our typical state," I reply giggling. Taken two years ago, it shows my family in front of our house. My mother and father are sitting in lawn chairs, my mother fanning herself, a hand raised dramatically in the air. My father is winking at the camera behind the rim of his scotch glass, while my sister Elise is checking her makeup in a compact mirror. Henry, Martin, and I are sitting on the ground on a quilt, Henry pulling me into a headlock while I kick Martin in the shin. We're all smiling happily.

I put the picture down on my lap. "It all seems like so long ago," I say to myself, gazing at nothing in particular. Web nods to himself, pulling out a book from his pack. Joe hands me my pictures back and looks at me sweetly. "I like your family, they seem entertaining," he says, laying an arm across the back of the my seat. "I wish I could have known you then."

"You'll just have to come to the farm one day," I say carefully, avoiding 'after the war'. Joe looks at me, surprised. "Is that an invitation, sergeant?" he asks quietly, avoiding Web's curious gaze. I recognize the same phrase from two nights ago and raise an eyebrow. "This time it is, corporal," reply with a smile. He laughs through his nose and lights a cigarette, and I stare out the window at the passing countryside for the remainder of the ride.

* * *

We were entrenched deep within the North Carolina wilderness at Mackall during a combat test, and Sobel was panicking. I had managed to avoid him effectively while we were at Fort Benning, but here it was nearly impossible. Gene and I watched as he motioned Petty over to him to look at the map, breaking the silence of the woods around us. I groaned quietly while Gene cursed under his breath. "Please tell me he's not about to move us again," I whispered, while Gene shook his head.

Winters slid over the embankment to try to convince an agitated Sobel to stay put. Clearly he was not having it, and he stalked off with a wild look in his eye. Winters turned to us and hissed, "Second platoon, move out! Tactical column!" Skip and Penk looked at each other incredulously as the men quickly began to pack up the MGs and the mortars. I glared daggers at Sobel's retreating form and my hand found my switchblade in my pocket. If only…I thought to myself.

As we walked quickly across the open ground, the other platoon rose from the pine straw, catching us all at gunpoint. Sobel looked dumbfounded at them, and I turned and looked at Bill, whose jaw was grinding in anger.

"Captain, you have just been killed, along with ninety-five percent of your company," the instructor commented dryly, walking up from the brush with a clipboard. "Name?" he asked.

"Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th," he muttered, aware of the looks the men were giving him. My heart sank into my stomach as we looked around at each other, at the man who had doomed us all. I could feel my blood boil under my skin at the way he had placed us all into direct danger after we had been concealed in the correct position. This man was going to get us all shot.

"Leave three wounded men on the ground, and report back to the assembly area," the instructor said, walking off. The men fidgeted uncomfortably, and next to me Gene clenched his jaw and stared at Sobel, eyes incensed. "Goddamnit," I heard Sobel whisper, as he turned around and angrily pointed his pistol at three men. "You, you, and you." He stalked off into the woods, as we all walked behind him. Gene caught up with me.

"How the fuck are we supposed to save lives when he's getting us all killed?" he whispered savagely in my ear, and stalked away. I sighed, pulling my helmet off of my head. Joe quickly took his place and looked at me knowingly.

"You know, we could just kill him together," he muttered, cracking the first smile I'd seen all day. I snorted delightedly. "That's romantic," I sassed back. "You know you'd love it," he snarked, and I realized in a sick, twisted way, I would. I tried to hide my smile but he saw and bumped me with his shoulder. "Atta girl," he whispered, and I stifled a giggle.

A few yards back, George and Frank walked behind us. "Jesus God, what a pair," I heard him whisper. I turned around and stuck my tongue out as Joe flipped them off. George just laughed.

* * *

I walked into the officer's barracks where I knew Lew would be stationed. Winters had told me earlier that he had twisted an ankle during the combat test, and since Gene couldn't spare the time to wrap it for him, I went instead. I was a little nervous about seeing him for the first time since that night, but I knew we both meant well and pushed my feelings of apprehension away.

"Ah, what are you going to do," I heard Lew say in a defeated tone as I walked in. Winters acknowledged me with a nod as I grabbed my kit, plopping down on Lew's bed and starting to unravel the gauze. "Nothing," Winters said. "Just keep training the men."

A figure hopped into the doorway just as I had my kit unpacked. A smiling man with curly hair entered the room, pausing. "Am I interrupting?" he said cautiously. Lew looked at the man curiously as Winters got up. "Oh, no," he said. "Lieutenant Lewis Nixon, Lieutenant Harry Welsh, just in from the 82nd." Welsh removed his garrison cap and shook Lew's hand, smiling cordially. "Congratulations on the promotion," Welsh said. "Aw, thanks, if you want to call it that," Lew said jovially. "You'll learn him pretty quickly. No flaws, no vices, no sense of humor," Lew joked, and I huffed. The men turned to me and Lew raised an eyebrow. "And Spitfire over here, she's pretty simple too." I glared at the use of the word 'simple'. "She'll punch you in the face, then stitch you up after," he said, winking at me. I shoot him a disparaging look and rise to greet Welsh. "It's a pleasure to meet you, lieutenant," I say with a smile. "I'm Sergeant Eloise Saylor." Welsh takes my hand and looks at Winters, confused. "I thought they didn't let women in the airborne?"

"I'm a field nurse, sir," I say happily, returning to my kit. "But anything the men can do, I can do, too."

"And better, probably," Lew adds, eyes twinkling. "What's up?"

"I'm hearing a lot of rumblings," Harry turns to Winters. "Sobel?" Nix questions, and Harry nods. "Just talking about that."

"So, he gets a little jumpy in the field," Harry says. "Mhmm," I pipe up, my face darkening. "He gets jumpy and then you get killed." Lew grunts his approval. Welsh scoffs. "That's nice."

Winters looks over at me pointedly. "Yeah, look, if we discuss it I think it should be amongst ourselves," he says. "Oh, absolutely," Harry replies, just as Sobel walks around the door frame.

The four of us quickly stand at attention as Sobel lingers in the doorway, carving an apple with his pocketknife. I cringe internally as his gaze lingers on me. "Second platoon ready?" he finally asks Winters. "Ready, sir," he replies. "Then get them in formation, we're moving out," Sobel states, looking back at me. I keep my face neutral, but I can't help the spark of defiance that drifts into my eyes. Sobel catches it and glares back. "Yes, sir," Winters replies steadily, moving past him with Harry on his heels. Sobel watches them go, then turns and stares at Lew and me, still standing at attention. With one last glance at me, he walks out the door, chomping into his apple as he goes.

I wait until he's far away to let it out. "Ugh, saints preserve me from that man," I say, walking around to face Lew. "Y'all are going to have to teach me how to keep my face passive."

"No offense, but I don't think anyone could teach you that, sweetheart," he chimes, and I force him to sit on the bed. "Prop that foot up, Winters told me that you twisted it today. You know you shouldn't be walking around on it like that." Lew shrugs and obeys as I grab my gauze. "I had to run errands, what was I supposed to do?" he replies nonchalantly.

"You could have told me earlier," I snark back, and he laughs. "What?" I ask.

"Liebgott's been rubbing off on you," he says, not unkindly. Still, there is an air of distaste in his words. I shake my head.

"Yeah? Well, it doesn't matter," I say, refusing to meet his eyes. He reaches over and lifts my chin up.

"I just have to know," he says honestly. "Are you happy? Is he treating you well?" I hesitate, embarrassment flooding my face.

"Yes… I am," I finally choke out. "He's a perfect gentlemen." Lew snorts. "Are you sure we know the same Liebgott?" he replies, and I smirk up at him. Lew groans. "You two together could waltz into an entire camp of enemy soldiers and come out swinging. You're perfect for each other." I finish wrapping his ankle and help him stand up. He catches my arm as I walk away.

"But seriously, Eloise," he says. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy." I smile and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, Lew," I say. "You're the best."

He shakes me off. "Get out of here, get packed. Go kiss that skinny kid of yours." He laughs as I swing a fist at him, storming out of his barracks.

* * *

The boys are sitting down on the ground when I walk up. "You gotta admit, he's got no chance," Cobb says, shrugging a shoulder. "Either the Krauts will get him, or one of us."

"Who, Sobel?" I say, squatting down as the boys nod. "He screwed up one maneuver," says Shifty, being fair. "Ah well, you know I'm always fumbling with grenades, it's be easy to throw one at him by accident," I smirk.

"Well, now they must have put him in charge for a reason," Shifty says in his southern drawl. "Yeah, cause the Army wouldn't make a mistake, right Shift?" I counter. Lipton turns around and gives me a look. I shrug it off.

"Or you could double-team it with Eloise, Lieb," Toye says slyly. "Be a really cute first date for you two." The boys chuckle around me, and I glare at them, though I'm secretly enjoying the scenario in my head. I bet she could do some terrifying things with that little knife of hers.

"Yeah, Joe, when's the wedding?" Cobb snides.

I stand up, grabbing my pack. "Sometime after the war, probably," I reply calmly, and walk off. There's a stunned silence behind me and I grin devilishly.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I hear Toye yell, but I'm already walking towards my truck, laughing quietly.

* * *

On the train, I sit with the officers, both Winters and I catching up on writing letters to our families. I've just composed a reply to my father when Lew walks up. "Going my way?" he asks Winters. "Wherever the train takes me," Winters replies calmly. "Where'd you suppose that might be?" Lew counters, and Winters shakes his head. "Haven't got a clue."

"Oh, c'mon, take a guess," Lew replies, agitated that he isn't interested in playing his little game. "Atlantic? Pacific? … Atlantic?"

"I'm not the intelligence officer," Winters says dryly, and Lew grunts. "Well of course I know, but if I told you I'd have to kill you," Lew leans forward. "So don't tell me," Winters replies, looking up from his letter writing. I smirk knowingly as Lew walks over and sits down beside me. I scoot over, not wanting to disturb a sleeping Harry Welsh.

"New York City, troop ship, England," Lew says quietly. I raise my pen in the air. "Hold up, am I or am I not allowed to tell that to my father in this letter?" I say, feigning studiousness. Winters snorts. "What do you think?" Lew bites back, and I smirk. "I'm going to take that as a yes…" I say quietly, and Winters laughs quietly.

Lew reaches into his back pocket for his flask. "We're invading Europe, my friends," he says seriously. "Fortress Europa."

_Europe_. I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," I say, and both men turn to look at me. "My two older brothers are Marines in the Pacific," I say, shaking my head. "They're catching all sorts of hell. Coral islands, no fresh water, and the Japs are apparently vicious bastards." I shudder.

"Nix, what are you going to do when you get into combat?" Winters says, motioning to his flask. "Oh, I have every confidence in my scrounging abilities," he says. "And I have a case of Vat 69 hidden in your footlocker." Winters wheezes out a laugh, but then looks up. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Lew replies. "Morning," he says to an awakening Harry, offering out his flask. "This could turn into a real nice morning," Harry says appreciatively, as Lew points to him proudly. He offers the flask to me. "Want some?"

"No thanks," I reply with a sigh, looking over at Lew. "Not unless you want a repeat of Fort Benning?" I wink and he laughs.

"When Princess over here starts drinking, she will flirt with anything that has two legs. And she starts fights," Lew says proudly as Harry looks on disbelievingly. I chuckle to myself and turn back to my letter.

_Dear Daddy_, I write, thinking of a way I can relay this information over to him when a light bulb goes off in my head. _Nouvelles urgentes. Nous sommes bourd d'un train vers le nord. Nous naviguons au Royaume-Uni. Nous sommes envahit l'Europe._ I sigh. I'm betting hard that the average Army censor isn't fluent in French. _I will give you more information when I can. Thank you for the letter and the photographs, they made my day and my friends got a kick out of it too. Send my love and goodwill to Mama, Elise, Henry and Martin. Pray for me. I love all of you to death. And don't worry! I will be fine. All my love, Eloise._

* * *

The beginning of September is crisp in New York, which startles me. Back home, it would still be summertime, and Mama would be swigging sweet tea out on the veranda under the ceiling fan. I would be barefoot, riding bareback through the pastures, bringing Daddy the mail up from our mile-long driveway. I smile at the memory, but I'm jolted to the present when George slams into my back as we walk up the gangplank.

"Ow, George!" I shout, glaring. He holds up his hands. "Hell, it wasn't me Princess, yell at the guys behind me," he hollers, and I groan. We were all shoved together tighter than sardines in a can on the walkway up to our troop ship, and everyone was shoving. Men had no patience, I thought to myself as we inched our way up to the ship.

After we had successfully checked into our area with the officials, I walked quietly up to the deck where I saw the other Easy Company men gathered. I placed my hands gently on the backs of Toye and Frank. "How're we doing, y'all?" I asked gently, softening at the look of worry on some of the men's faces. "We feeling good?"

"I'm feeling something," George said quietly, taking a drag from his cigarette. I nodded carefully, making my way to an open spot on the rail. "Y'all let me know if you feel seasick or anything, I have stuff for that," I say quietly. The men nod, looking out into the sunset.

The ship begins to lurch backwards, and Bill's knuckles tighten on the rail beside me. "Here we go," he mutters morosely. The wind whips my hair from under my helmet, and I pull it off and shake it out of its customary braid. My hair swirls around my shoulders, the sea breeze sweeping it out of my face.

Joe wanders up behind me and places his hand on the small of my back. We have a system of touch, and recently have started to do these little things. I lean into him slightly as George shoots me a knowing smirk, but I ignore him. I watch with the other men as the Statue of Liberty comes into view. For some, this will be the last time they see home. My throat clenches at the thought.

"She is a thing of beauty, isn't she?" I ask him quietly, gazing at the symbol of our country. Joe looks down and tucks a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. "Yes, she is," he whispers in my ear, and I blush, getting the feeling that we aren't talking about the statue anymore.

* * *

"Jesus fucking Christ," I spit, wading my way through the thin corridor of men and dangling boots that make up the maze of our barracks in the ship's center. "This is awful." I swat away another attempt to grab at me from a paratrooper from another company. Bull, who walks behind me menacingly, shoots a look that sends the other man scrambling. "Sure is, sweetheart," he drawls in his Arkansas twang.

When I finally reach Easy Company, I look around for a spare bunk. "Who am I bunking with?" I call out teasingly. Malarky's hand shoots straight up in the air. "I ain't too proud to beg, Princess," he calls out, and the men laugh. "That is, if your fiance doesn't mind." The men laugh harder at that.

"You're going to have to remind me which one," I retort, laughing myself. I feel as if the Legend of the Fake Fiance will follow me to my grave. "Fine, Malark, but only temporarily." I look over at Bull. "Can you give me a leg up?"

"Certainly," he says, and grips my bent left leg. I grab the edge of the bunk and swing my leg over as if I'm climbing into the saddle. Don grabs me and hefts me up, and I pat him on the back appreciatively. "Thanks, darlin'," I drawl. He pulls out a pack of cards and waves them around. "Wanna play Gin?"

"Absolutely," and we settle down to it as the men start chatting around us.

"Some lucky bastard is headed to the South Pacific," says Skip, wrestling his way through the men. "Gonna get dropped on some tropical island, under a palm tree with six naked native girls, helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand feed them to the flamingos," he drawls out.

"Flamingos are mean. They bite," says Joe Dominguez knowingly.

"So do the naked native girls," his bunk mate adds. "With any luck!" Perconte adds.

"Hey guys, I'm glad I'm going to Europe," Toye says from his bunk. He clicks open his switchblade. "Hitler gets one of these across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day, and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life."

"What if we don't get to Europe? What if they send us to North Africa?"

"My brother's in North Africa, he says it's hot," Bill mumbles lazily from behind a cigarette. "Really?" Don says sarcastically. "It's hot in Africa?"

"Shaddup," Bill snarls. "Point is, it don't matter where we go, we get into combat and the only person you can trust is yourself and the fella next to ya." Don nods in agreement.

"Hey, long as he's a paratrooper," says Toye.

"Oh yeah?" George grunts, climbing up the bunks. "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?"

"If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving on down the line," Martin says from his bunk. "Hook up with some other officer, like Heyliger or Winters."

"I like Winters, he's a good man," Bill says. "But when the bullets start flying, I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me." I snort at that. "How do you know he's a Quaker?" Don asks. Bill jumps down from his bunk. "He ain't Catholic."

"Neither's Sobel," Don retorts, and I look up.

"That prick's a Son of Abraham," Bill says, and my eyes flash over to where Joe is sitting, legs dangling off of his bunk. Oh, no.

"He's what?" Joe says, and I carefully put my cards down. Don notices my tense shoulders and looks up from his cards.

"He's a Jew," Bill smirks.

"Oh, fuck," Joe snides, and throws his cigarette to the ground. I make a move to hop out of my bunk and intercept the two, but Don hold me back. He shakes his head quietly when I look at him. "Don't want you to get hit," he says under his breath.

Joe saunters over to Bill threateningly. "I'm a Jew," he says, getting close to Bill. Bill looks up, unperturbed. "Congratulations," he says snarkily. "Get your nose out of my face."

Joe's face turns white as his temper takes over, and then quick as lighting he takes a swing at Bill and lunges at him. A crowd of men quickly gather around them, yelling at them to break it up as I lean back and Don takes his hand off my arm. I watch as they wrestle with the two of them, and roll my eyes and groan.

Luz leans down. "What are you going to do about that, Eloise?" he asks, nodding towards the fray. I shrug. "Not much I can do, unless I want to get punched in the face, as it appears." I take a cigarette from behind his ear. "Got a light?" I ask, and he brings it down for me. I take a puff as Don looks at me speculatively. "Thought you didn't smoke," he remarks, picking his cards back up. "Yeah, well, I guess there's a first time for everything," I say, taking an experimental drag. Luz laughs and swings back up.

By the time the men have separated Bill and Joe, Bill has a black eye and Joe has what looks to be a nose fracture. I sigh and swing down from my bunk, approaching the group warily. "Now that I know I'm not going to be punched in the face," I say dryly, breaking the tension. "Both of you should be feeling like idiots right now about fighting over Sobel." I glare at both of them, Bill meeting my eyes sulkily and Joe glaring at the ground. "Guarnere, I'll look you over when I come back," I say, patting him on the back. He nods and sits down, still incensed. "You," I point at Joe. "You're coming to the medical room with me right now." He looks up, refusing to meet my eyes, and starts walking. I hear a few low whistles from the boys behind us.

"He's in the doghouse now," I hear Don mutter. I couldn't agree more.

* * *

By some miracle we find an empty medical room, and I slam the door after us. "What the hell was that?" I demand, crossing my arms as he paces across the room.

He turns on me. "What do you mean, 'what the hell was that'?" he yells in my face, going red. I keep my eyes stoic as he balled his fists up. "Fucking Guarnere better watch his mouth, insulting me like that!" He slams a fist into the metal wall behind my head, and cringes from the impact. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and I let my exasperation show on my face. Joe scoffs and stalks away, running his hands through his hair.

I wait until he's lost some steam. "He wasn't insulting you, Joe," I say quietly, but his back is turned to me. I walk slowly up to him. "He was insulting Sobel. What he said was offensive, yeah, but shit like that you gotta let roll off your shoulders." I place a gentle hand on his back, and he softens a little. I sigh, relieved. "Now come on, get on the table so I can look at that nose, will ya?" He nods, turning around carefully and sitting down. I go to the side cabinets and search for some cotton balls and a nose splint.

I set the items on the steel table next to the cushioned stretcher, and look at Joe. His jaw is set and he's gazing off into wall, dwelling on it. I walk up next to him, and then decide to be bold. Wedging my way between his dangling legs, I gently grab his face with my hands, turning it down to look at me. It works, and Joe's hands immediately come to rest on my waist. I smile to myself at the contact, and look at him imploringly. "Now you want to tell me what's really wrong?"

He sighs through his nose and stays quiet. I nod and begin cleaning the blood off his face while he collects his thoughts.

"All my life," he starts suddenly, startling me. "I've been given shit about being Jewish, about speaking German, about being a foreigner." He scowls at nothing in particular. "It just gets to me, the way people think I'm automatically less than because I'm not like them." He glances questioningly into my eyes, and I look back. "Some people don't want me around because I'm a Jew."

I stop and look up at him. "Are you implying something?" His stony gaze says it all, and I sigh, placing my hands on his knees.

"Look, you idiot," I say, smirking, and he looks up into my eyes. "I don't give a single flying fuck if you're Jewish." I stop as he absorbs this.

"You don't?" he questions, wrinkling his forehead together. "But you're Catholic, you're not supposed to...well, you're not supposed to be with someone like me."

"I'm also a woman, and I'm not supposed to be in the Army, yet here I am," I counter, opening my arms wide, letting them fall. "I like you because you're you," I say quietly, blushing. "I like you because you're witty, because you don't take anyone's shit, because you're intense and a good fighter." Joe's hands tighten around my waist. "I like you because you're a real man, although sometimes you act like a child." He snorts at that, resting his head against mine.

"I like you because you make me laugh, and you don't take my shit," he says suddenly, taking me off guard. "I like how you blush when you get flustered, like right now." I bite back a giggle. "I like you because you're independent and scare the hell out of me. I like you because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He pulls back, eyes alight as he captures me in his gaze, and my heart pounds faster. His gaze flickers down to my lips, and before I know what I'm doing, I groan and launch myself towards his face.

Our lips capture each other's perfectly, and I press my body to his as he twists a hand into my hair. I wind one arm around his back and another into his hair, where I pull slightly, eliciting a moan from within his chest. He tilts my head back as he jumps off the table, backing me up and pressing me against the wall. I sigh as his tongue gains entrance to my mouth, and we characteristically fight for control. He breaks away to breathe, and leans against his hands propped up on the wall behind me.

"God damn, woman," he says, still gasping. "You're driving me insane." He suddenly looks down at me seriously. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to be with you every day and not be able to touch you? To even hold your hand?" He grabs my hand, and intertwines our fingers. "To watch other men flirt with you, and not be able to declare you as mine?" I place my hand behind his neck and look up.

"Yes," I say honestly. "Yes, I do." I kiss him gently on the lips, a kiss of caring, of truthfulness. He pulls me to him and we stay there, clutching each other as he rests his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. He suddenly chuckles and I look up at him. "What?" I say sassily.

"You just smell so good," he says, cupping my face in his hand. "You smell like sunlight, and cinnamon, and fresh laundry." I giggle and press my face to his chest. "You smell good, too," I realize, trying to pick out the scents. "Like...freshly baked bread, and lemons, and man smell." He quirks an eyebrow up. "Men just smell...manly," I finished lamely, and he laughs.

"We should probably get back down to the men," I say, checking my watch. "We've been up here for too long." He shrugs, a glint coming back into his eye. I press a finger to his chest. "But no antagonizing, okay? Don't start another fight with Bill, just try to let it go." His jaw sets, but he looks down at me kindly. "Yes ma'am," he says with a smile. I roll my eyes as we walk out the door.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**Once again, thanks for the reviews! Hope y'all enjoy! **

* * *

"_Stoppen wo sie sind_," I whispered quietly to myself, the German phrasebook resting on my chest where I lay. I closed my eyes and concentrated on remembering and pronouncing the simplistic phrases correctly. "_Ich bin ein Sanitater_." I scowled to myself. German just sounded so halting and ugly coming from my mouth, so unlike the beautiful French that I had learned from childhood. I sighed pathetically, and flopped over on my bed.

Aldbourne was right out of a Bruegel painting, with citizens and soldiers bustling to and fro constantly. I had been stationed with a cheerful, elderly couple, whose mouth's had popped open to form happy 'o's of delight when they saw I was a girl. Mr. and Mrs. Withoulse had practically spoiled me with homemade meals, dresses that had belonged to their daughter who had left home, and with an attic room with a lattice window that opened to view the main street. Little yellow climber roses grew around my window sill, and I would pick one or two daily to put in my hair before going to my duties at the medic's station.

It was my afternoon off, and I was lying on my trundle bed practicing the distasteful German, drifting slowly into a nap. The breeze floated gently through the window, blowing the curtains up and carrying the distant voices of the men walking by on the street into my room. I sighed happily, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of comfort.

_Plink! _My eyes snap open at the sound of rock on glass. I sit up slowly, looking around in confusion for the source of the noise. I shrug and flop down on the bed, untangling my legs from the blue cotton sundress that had found in the back of her closet. I turned over on my side, and tried to go back to sleep.

_Plink! _I groaned, exasperated as I got up to find and silence the noise. I glanced out the window and walked past, only to return to it incredulously. Standing under my window, in his dress uniform, stood none other than Lieutenant Speirs.

I leaned out of my window, wrinkling my brow in confusion. "Lieutenant Spiers?" I called down, and he turned around quickly. "Are you lost?"

He flashes out a bright smile, and chuckles. "No, I'm not lost, Sergeant. Just trying to get your attention."

I grin, unbelieving. "So you threw pebbles at my window?"

He raises his hands imploringly. "Did I need to do something else? Fine, then let me think." He falls silent for a moment, then dramatically raises a hand towards my window. "It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!"

I laugh, nodding. "Shakespeare, very nice," I call down. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Just come down," he yells. "I've got some news you might want to hear." I nod, and close the window, securing it with the latch. I grab my oxfords and slip them onto my feet and pick up my sunglasses from the dresser before walking quickly down the stairs. Mrs. Withoulse is in the kitchen stirring a pot of potato soup when she sees me and winks. "There's a very handsome man waiting for you outside, my dear," she winks. "I'll keep a cup of soup warm for you in the oven."

"Thank you! I won't be gone too long… hopefully!" I add with a laugh as I exit through the front door.

I slip on my sunglasses and make my way across the front garden to where Spiers has parked his jeep next to the couple's brick wall. "Good afternoon, sir," I say, smiling cordially. "What's all the fuss about?"

He nods his head over to the jeep. "Get in, and I'll tell you," he says, hopping in the driver's seat. I hesitate, feeling a little strange taking a ride with him, but shrug it off. I climb in the side and tuck my dress under my legs to prevent it from flying up, and I blush at the thought. Thankfully, I didn't let my hair down before I had attempted to take my nap, and I smoothed a few flyways back. Spiers started the jeep and peeled away from the curb, driving hurriedly through town.

I glance over at him, one arm casually draped across the back of my seat. "So what did you want to tell me?" I say over the wind. He raises an eyebrow and looks at my outfit.

"You look nice today," he says, ignoring the question. "You like the color blue, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," looking at him skeptically. He laughs shortly, and looks back towards the road. We were driving in the opposite direction of headquarters out to the training grounds for the men. "Sir, are you kidnapping me?"

"No, not today sergeant," he replies evenly. "Colonel Sink has seen fit to supply all medics within the airborne with weapons and weapons training for defense purposes for when we jump." I look at him with a shocked expression. "Even me?" I ask. He looks over patronizingly.

"You are a medic, aren't you, ma'am?" he snides, and I roll my eyes. "So we're meeting your company out at the rifle range."

"But I'm in a dress!" I motion. "I can't do my training in a dress!"

He scoffs. "We're doing targeting and rounds today, so no need to worry," he says. "Plus, I wouldn't force you to crawl around in a dress." He winks at me and I huff, excited yet feeling extremely unprofessional.

We pull up to the target range, and I see my men and the officers already gathered. Suddenly a thought flits into my head. "Sir, why are you here if it's Easy Company's training day?" I ask slyly. Spiers quirks an eyebrow but says nothing as he gets out of the jeep and opens my door for me. I sigh, frustrated at my state and the lack of information, and I hear him fighting his laughter.

I stalk past him and make my way over to the group, Spiers hot on my heels. Bill turns around and gives me a once over. "Well, if it ain't the Princess in the flesh," he says, smirking. I roll my eyes and shove him playfully. "I didn't really get the 'No Civilian Clothes' memo," I say, shooting a glare at Spiers, still standing behind me.

"'Look good, feel good', I always say," pipes up George, coming over to get his eyeful. "And boy, if you don't look good." He grins and I smile. "Maybe I should make this my official uniform? Strike fear into the heart of every German I encounter?" I joke, walking towards the officers as the men laugh behind me. I step around a puddle carefully as I join Winters, Lew, and Harry. I salute Winters, and then smile sheepishly. "I apologize for my apparel, sir, I wasn't informed that this was our company plan for today."

Winters looks down knowingly. "Neither did I, until an hour ago. Sink dropped this new regulation on us when we were on our way to fighting maneuvers." Gene walks up with Spiers and glances at me, sharing my frustration. He's dressed in leisure wear as well, his new leather loafers getting dirtier by the minute. "So you're being outfitted with a rifle and learning how to fire other hand-held weapons today," says Harry, smiling despite our grouchy looks.

"Easy Company, gather around me!" Speirs yells from the front of the target range. I loop my arm in Gene's and walk us toward the men, giggling at his groans. "I was taking a goddamn nap," he mopes pathetically. I nod. "I know, I was too," I say, rubbing his back.

Speirs nods at us, and motions for us to stand on the side. "Medics, observe the lecture and then I'll get you situated," he says, giving me an unreadable look. I roll my eyes and stand to the side with Gene while the men smirk at me.

"Easy Company, today you'll be practicing your rifle skills and targeting abilities," he says authoritatively. "After I call each round, you'll be graded on your accuracy. We'll go in four teams of two." He pauses and looks over at us. "You'll also help our medics catch up to where we are when you're not on the range." He smirks in our direction, and I rest my hands on my hips and glare. We might be medics, but we weren't totally helpless. Gene seemed to share my sentiments. "Is he aware we're Southerners?" Gene whispers out of the side of his mouth, and I shake my head, biting back a snort. "Apparently not," I say back, and we both choke back chuckles. Spiers doesn't know what he's in for.

He breaks with the men and comes over to us. "Okay, you two," he says dryly. "We use M1 carbine rifles. Have either of you ever fired a rifle before?"

I raise my hand, feigning confusion. "Um, I think I might have before once or twice on my farm," I say coyly, watching Gene attempt to compose his face and stop a grin from spreading.

Spiers looks me up and down. "We'll do you first, Saylor," he says, motioning for me to follow. I turn back and raise both eyebrows at Gene, who is now laughing openly to himself. I follow Spiers over to where George and Don are paired up, loading their magazines into their rifles. Don looks up, and shakes his head. "Dear God," he mumbles. "Women and guns." I stick my tongue at him as Don laughs.

Spiers grabs a M1 and walks over to me. "This is your standard rifle," he says, handing it over to me. I grab it and revel in the familiar feeling of a firearm in my hands. "That's the magazine," he begins, pointing to the various parts of the gun. "The safety switch, recoil plate, the stock, the piston, and the trigger." He glances up at me, smirking. "But I bet you already know that." He steps back as I test the weight and the alignment carefully. These aren't unlike the hunting rifles my father and I kept at home for deer season.

"Now," Speirs says, stepping behind me. Suddenly I feel his hands around my waist, and I stiffen slightly. George and Don share a look, but say nothing. "Cradle it in your shoulder, like this," he says, and positions my arm. "Bring the butt to your cheek, and check your target through the viewer." I does as he says, only for him to hurry up and get his hands off of me. "Good," he says, and steps back. I nod my thanks over my shoulder, but turn a confused eye to George. "What the hell was that?" he whispers, and I shrug. "No fucking clue," I say, a little incensed that I'm being treated like a china doll.

"Now, when I blow the whistle, you will attach your magazines, situate yourself accordingly, and fire eight rounds into the targets. Afterward we'll review your aim," Spiers calls out, and I turn and give Gene a wink. "Just try to hit the target, Eloise!" I hear Lew yell, and the men all chuckle. I shoot him a scowl, and catch Joe's eye from the front of the men waiting their turn. He gives me a Cheshire Cat smile, and I realize that apart from Gene and Web, he's the only one who knows about my hunting enthusiasm. I quirk an eyebrow and smile like a maniac, making him laugh, and turn back to the course. Time to get serious.

"One! Two!" I hear Speirs yell out. I grip my magazine, giddy with anticipation. "Three!" He blows the whistle.

I snap the magazine into the rifle quickly, and swing the gun into my shoulder professionally. Pressing my cheek to the butt of the gun, I zoom in with eagle vision on the heart of the man-shaped target fifty yards away. I flick off the safety with my thumb, and squeeze the trigger, firing one round after another. _BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! _I fire off the last four rounds, and lower my weapon, gazing down towards my target critically. I can't tell if each bullet hit the middle directly, but I can see them all clustered towards the center. I nod approvingly to myself, and detach the magazine before hearing the silence around me.

I look over and see most of the men are staring openly, clearly shocked. "Holy Mother of God," says George, eyes wide. "That was the most terrifying thing I have ever seen."

"More like the most attractive thing I've ever seen," says Don, eyes alight. I laugh, shaking my head. Spiers walks over, looking like he won the lottery.

"Well, sergeant," he begins, taking the gun from my hand. "Seems like I may have underestimated you." He strides down the range and rips off the target. Walking back, he holds it up for me to see. Nearly every bullet hole has decimated the center of the target, and he whistles approvingly. "I think that will be all for today," he says, handing me the target. "A souvenir." I smile knowingly and walk off.

"You're turn, Gene," I holler, and Gene takes my place. I meet up with a smirking group of officers as I ponder my target. "Lew," I say, cocking my head. "Do you think I hit the target?" Lew rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright," he says. "Don't rub it in." Harry claps me on the shoulder. "We got ourselves a right little Annie Oakley, boys," he laughs.

"Well," I drawled, looking at them all. "No one even bothered to ask whether I liked to shoot guns or not, so…" Winters laughed, looking out over the men. "What are we even supposed to call an armed medic, anyway?" Lew snorts, and I look back at him playfully.

"Insurance," I quip, and the men crack up loudly. It turned into a great afternoon, after all.

* * *

"Something about a girl and a gun," Skip says appreciatively next to me as Eloise walks with Spiers to the shooting range. I shoot him a look but he ignores me. I hadn't expected her to show up, let alone dressed in civilian clothes, let alone looking carefree and drop dead gorgeous, so the sight of her with a gun took me off guard.

"This is the strangest damn thing I've ever seen," snorts Toye. "Women can't handle a gun."

"Eloise can," pipes up Web. "She's a huntress."

"A huntress," says Bull behind his cigar stub. "I like the sound of that."

I watch carefully as Spiers smiles at my girl, and I narrow my eyes. He never lifted his visage of passiveness around the men, but lately I'd notice him perk up whenever Eloise came around. I didn't like it, but there wasn't anything I could do. Plus, he hadn't exactly touched her so I couldn't -

"Speirs is getting a little fresh with Eloise over there," Bill says, taking a drag from his cigarette. I snap back into reality and I watch him put his hands on her waist. Eloise stiffens uncomfortably, and I clench my jaw. That was too far.

Frank looks at my face, and nervously steps away. Spiers backs off with a word from her, and I relax slightly. She glances over towards us and catches my eye. I just grin knowingly at her, a rerun of our moment in the medical room playing my head. She quirks an eyebrow at me and slowly spreads a crazy smile across her face. Cobb snorts. "She looks like a fucking maniac," he says snidely.

I watch her as she switches into auto-pilot, studying the course. Speirs blows his whistle, and quicker than any man out there, Eloise has her gun assembled and is firing rounds with intense precision into the target. All the other men have forgotten about their own targets and watch her with open mouths. She finishes her rounds and rolls her shoulders back, handing the gun over to Speirs.

Bill looks at me and snorts. "Well, Liebgott, if that ain't a clear indicator that you two were made for each other, then I don't know what is." I shrug, unable to hide my smirk.

"Don't know what you fellas are talking about," I drawl out, dodging a slap from Toye. The men laugh and shake their heads, but I watch her walk away, pride shining on her face as she clutches her target. Two psychopaths in love. It did have a ring to it.

* * *

Sobel ran us across an open field - _Completely exposed to enemy fire_, I thought angrily to myself - and halted us as we all dropped to one knee and watched him harass Tipper with the map. I sighed loudly as George looked back at me.

"Perconte, Luz," Sobel motioned drastically. "Get the men and take them - uh - take them behind those trees."

"Yes, sir," George and Frank chimed, and motioned for us to follow. I stalked over to the trees, every second pissing me off the more.

"Preconte, Sobel's lost again, right?" George asked, pausing at the edge of the brush. Skip rolled his eyes and slung an arm over my shoulder. "Luz, can you do Major Horton?" Frank asked, as we all gathered around George excitedly. He had the uncanny talent of mimicking anyone and everyone he talked to, to our extreme delight.

George screwed up his face. "Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?" he drawled out, eliciting chuckles from all of us. My sour mood lifted slightly.

"Maybe you can goose this shmuck, get us moving?" Frank asked hopefully. "Nah, no way," George began, but the men weren't having any of that.

"C'mon George, please?" I chimed in, pulling the puppy dog eyes. He looked at me for a moment, the men still pleading with him to do it. "Alright, just this once," he relented, and Skip patted him on the back as we all crouched down, making a racket. George shushed us and cleared his throat.

"Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?" George hollered, and I died instantly. Skip wheezed out a gust of laughter next to me, and I clamped a hand over his mouth, barely containing my own giggles.

"WHO SAID THAT!?" Sobel demanded angrily from across the pasture. "WHO BROKE SILENCE!?"

There was a beat of nothingness and I peeked out from behind a branch to see Tipper rationalizing with Sobel, barely able to contain his own smile. I winked at George. "Hook, line and sinker," I whispered, and he gave me a thumbs up.

"What is the goddamn hold up, Mister Sobel?" George yelled, as the men around me broke down into hysterics. I gasped for air as I tried to laugh silently to myself, and failing miserably. My bad mood would be gone for good if we got away with this.

"A fence, sir, ah, a barbed wire fence!" Sobel yelled back timidly. What a fucking idiot.

"Aw, that dog just ain't gonna hunt," George said, briefly distracted by the loud guffaws surrounding him. He shushed us again urgently, and returned to the task on hand. "Now you cut that fence and get this god damn platoon on the move!" His face strained and turned red as he mustered the entire essence of Horton into his voice, and I lost it.

"Ugh," I said, sobbing. "Oh God, I'm crying. I'm crying!" I cackled, much to the men's delight. I wiped my tears of mirth with the edge of my sleeve while Christensen slapped me on my back. We pulled it together as Sobel scrambled for some wire cutters.

I grabbed George's jacket. "In the movie of our lives," I giggled. "That will be the part that wins the Oscar." He winked as the men slapped his back in congratulations.

Ten minutes later, after trampling through some poor farmer's now-defunct cow pasture, we finally reached the road that was supposed to hook us up with Winter's platoon. We were so incredibly late, I wouldn't have been surprised if we had failed the entire maneuver again, and the faces of the men around me seemed to reflect my thoughts. I ground my teeth and clutched my gun, glaring daggers at Sobel's back as we jogged up the country road.

"Hi ho, siiiiilver!" Sobel yelled obnoxiously as he charged down the road. I could see that Winters had already placed the men into a counter-attack position, and I glowered. A salty looking older Englishmen sat on his bike, observing us skeptically, then snorted and went about his way. I rolled my eyes. We were already a joke to the natives.

Sobel stopped in the middle of the road, looking in disbelief at the effectiveness of Winters. Even the sight of my beloved Second Platoon did nothing to get me out of my mood. My eyes flickered over to the hedgerow, where Joe was positioned, rifle pointing right at my head. He winked, and my brow loosened as I edged over to him. "You've done it now, Joe," I whispered dramatically. "You've captured me!" His smile was contagious, even though I still wanted to stab Sobel repeatedly in the neck.

* * *

After the exercise, Joe and I walked down to where Bull and some other boys were playing a pick-up game of basketball. I had dressed down and thrown my helmet and my pack into the Withoulse's house before, and was enjoying the rare sunshine of the day. I arched my back and rolled my arms, groaning happily at the popping of the cramped area where my pack rubbed against my shoulders.

Joe reached over and tugged on a lock of my hair that had escaped my braid. "You need a haircut," he commented, and stuck his cigarette back into his mouth. I grabbed the end of my braid and stretched it out. My hair _had_ gotten really long. "You're right," I said, flipping it over my shoulder. He looked over at me with raised brows. "Excuse me, what was that? Can I get that in writing?" he joked, swinging an arm over my shoulder. I laughed quietly. "I don't know when I'll be able to get it cut, last time I had it done was at Fort Benning."

"Well, I can do it for you," he offered, looking over at me. "Really?" I asked. "You know how to cut girls' hair?" He shrugged. "Sorta, used to do it for my sisters all the time." He blew out a puff of smoke, and I watched it drift away and evaporate. "Well, I can't pay you with anything, unless you like lipstick," I grinned. His arm around my shoulder tightened into a headlock, and I squealed. "Oh, I can think of a few ways you can pay me back," he whispered lowly in my ear. I blushed and threw him off. "You are so inappropriate," I shot back, and he winked. "You love it."

We walked up to the basketball game, and Joe jogged over to join. "Hey girlie, wanna play?" Bull yelled at me, but I spotted Winters and Lew standing in the shade, and waved him away. "No, y'all go on without me," I said, walking over to where they loitered. I nodded at Winters and stopped next to Lew. "Fine day we're having out here," I drawled. Lew nodded.

"What did you think of maneuvers this morning, sergeant?" Winters asks, and I snort.

"Honestly?" I ask, and Winters motions for me to continue. I glance over at Lew, and he shrugs. "Y'all better be glad Captain Sobel didn't have my knife wedged into the side of his neck by the time we reached y'all at the crossroads, 'cause I was fit to kill by then," I growled, taking one of the cigarettes Lew had behind his ear and lighting it.

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe giving the medics guns wasn't the best idea, Dick," he says, and I shoot him a look.

"I'm not the only one who feels that way," I snap back, and Lew raises his hands defensively. "Never said that," he replied. "I just think that if anyone could get away with murder, it would be you… and potentially Liebgott." He nods to where my guys are playing and I smirk.

A regimental jeep pulls up the the middle of their game, and the boys yell as Evans hops out and strides towards us purposefully. "Lieutenant Winters," he says, and we all salute. He holds out a slip of folded paper towards Dick. "With Captain Sobel's compliments, sir." Winters takes the paper like it's a bomb and salutes him back as he walks away. I eye the paper as Evans hops back in the jeep, and Bull slams the basketball at the retreating vehicle. Turning back to Winters, I peer over his shoulder as he opens the paper.

"Aw, for crying out loud," he mutters, and Lew smirks. "He misspelled 'court martial'," Lew comments, and Winters sighs. "What?" I spit out. "What could you have possibly done wrong, sir?"

"No clue," Winters says, and walks away towards division headquarters. Lew and I look at each other and I glance over at his retreating form. "This is not good, Lew," I say, shaking my head. "This stinks of chickenshit." He nods his agreement, relighting his cigarette. "The game has definitely changed, doll face." He checks his watch. "Do you think the Withoulses would mind an extra lunch guest?" he says suggestively, and I smile. "Not at all," I say, turning and walking back to my billet. But in the back of my head, the possibility of what evil Sobel could serve up to Winters stewed to no end.

* * *

I walk towards the mess hall of Easy Company, dodging the drizzling rain. Mrs. Withoulse had been kind enough to let me borrow her Wellington boots, and my feet were kept dry as I splashed through the puddles. I was on my way to a medic's briefing and wanted a cup of coffee to warm me up beforehand.

As I hastily stomped into the room, I noticed that all the company NCO's were sitting down, staring down at the table morosely as their cigarette smoke swirled into the damp air. They all stiffened in surprise when I walked through the door, looking at each other warily. I was immediately suspicious.

There was a beat of silence as I took a few steps towards them. "What are y'all doing?" I asked as my gaze flickered to each man's face, and rested on Lipton, who looked at me with stony eyes.

Johnny Martin glanced at Lip. "Winters has been assigned to Battalion mess," he said darkly.

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but my heart began to beat faster and a fine red mist settled over my eyes. "_Que mere baise batard_," I spat out uncontrollably. The men exchanged glances as I clenched my fist and looked down. "So, he chose court martial," I commented slowly. Lip nodded, and suddenly I looked at them all suspiciously. "So what are y'all doing in here?" I demanded, noticing for the first time the little pieces of paper with the chicken scratch of each man stacked in a small pile in front of Lipton.

He swallows, and looks at me apprehensively. "You won't like what I have to say," he mutters. But he doesn't have to say anything.

"You're refusing to serve under Sobel," I say quietly, the truth of it all sinking in. I thought it would never happen, but the reality of it all hits me like a train. Without Winters, we would be dead in the water when it came to invading Europe. Sobel would have us all shot before we even left the plane. Breaking into a cold sweat, the memory of my nightmare replays in my head, and I feel sick to my stomach. It was a warning, it was all a warning about what could happen, and I ignored it. I groaned and screwed my eyes together, pressing my palm into my forehead as I fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. I would do anything for these men to prevent that.

"Let me sign, too," I say. "We can't let you do that, Eloise," Bill grumbles, eyes determined. "You're already in a position where you can't fuck up, and we're not putting you under the ax."

I want to argue back, but I understand his point. I nod tersely. "Fine. But at least let me argue your case to Sink afterward." Then men glance at each other, and Lip nods. "Okay," he relents, and I let out a breath. This is not what I was expecting this afternoon.

I walk over to the table, and put a hand on Lip's shoulder. He reaches up and holds it reassuringly. "This can work," I say, a plot forming in my head. "But don't say anything stupid to Sink. Just don't say anything. I cannot lose y'all." I point my finger threateningly at them. "Not now, not when we all need you the most."

Bull stands, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We know," he says quietly, and I nod. Lip gets up and looks at each man, and then me, his stare both saddened and determined. "Alright, boys, Eloise. Good luck." And he walks out of the hall and to our fates.

* * *

I sit outside Sink's office and listen to him yell at my boys, my men. I hear Harris and Raney called out, but thankfully no one else is mentioned. The door snaps open suddenly and I stand up , the men marching past me in regulation, nodding at me with heavy eyes as the walk past. I nod gently to each of them, and watch as they exit the hallway and walk outside.

I stare morosely down the hallway for a moment before I enter Sink's office. If you had told me a year ago that I would love a group of men so much that I would willingly thrown myself under the bus for them, I would have laughed. But my sole purpose was to protect them, and I had to do my part.

I hesitated before knocking on Sink's door, but when I did it was light and calm. "Enter!" his gruff voice beckoned from within, and I could hear the anger seep through his tone. I opened the door carefully and gave him my best salute, wearing a mask of careful calm and understanding. Sink glanced up from his papers and waved me in. "At ease, Eloise. I think I can guess why you're here."

"Yes, sir. It's about the men." I hesitated, and he looked up, giving me his full attention. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted, but watch your words, sergeant," he growled, and I nodded.

I took a deep breath. "Sir, when I arrived in Toccoa, you told me that my purpose was to strengthen the company, to make us the best of the best." I pause and see that he's listening. "And that's what I would like to tell you, that every man in our company makes us strong, but I would be mistaken. The fact of the matter is, as you probably know, that the men are afraid of what will happen when Captain Sobel leads us into combat. They aren't confident under him, and neither am I." I take a breath, and continue slowly. "He's not a good man, sir. He employs low scare tactics to manipulate us… to manipulate me." I glance up under my eyelashes to see Sink frown. "I am convinced that he assigned Lieutenant Winters to Battalion mess under false pretenses for his own satisfaction. My point is, sir, is that these men felt like they had to risk being shot to avoid being led by Captain Sobel. And that does not seem like a company that is being lead by a strong leader." I finish, and stare down at my shoes as the room rings in silence.

"I see," Sink says, placing his palms flat on his desk. "And what would your actions be if you were in my place?"

I stare at him for a second before I regain my composure, and think carefully. "I would redact the order for court martial of Lieutenant Winters, return him to Easy Company. It would give every man the peace of mind they want, but it would still cause conflict with Captain Sobel." I pause as an idea forms in my head. "I would transfer Captain Sobel to another company, or another place where he could train paratroopers, but avoid combat."

Sink stares me down and I hold my breath. I have dug my grave and now must lie in it, no matter what. "Hmmm," Sink comments. "That seems to me like sound advice, staff sergeant."

The last bit takes me by surprise. "Sir?" I turn my head slightly. Sink gets up and walks around his desk, smiling gently. "I am so proud of you, Eloise. You have done so well, and exceeded my expectations. I see it fit to promote you to Staff Sergeant, and so does the rest of the Battalion." He snaps me a salute, and I salute back, still not fully comprehending. "Congratulations, you're father will be so proud." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my new chevrons and places them in my hand. "I'll consider what you have said. And you said it very well, may I add," he comments, settling back down at his desk. "Until I come to a decision, I don't want any more grumblings. You go tell your men that."

I nod. "Thank you, sir, I will." I salute and turn to leave, a giddy feeling rising up, until a spare thought shoots it down. "Sir?" I say from the doorway. "Do you remember when I was younger, did my father ever tell you about the dreams I used to have?"

Sink narrows his eyes and studies me. "Why, yes… he did. What of them?"

I look him square in the eye. "They've started again."

He absorbs this, and looks down at his desk. "Ah," he says, and is quiet for a minute. "Stay sharp then, sergeant. And you let me know if anything… happens." He nods, and motions to the door. "Now, git!" he says softly, and I smile and close the heavy oak door behind him.

I turn the corner of the hallway and run into none other than Sobel, carrying a stack of paperwork. I salute and he refuses to salute back, but pauses to glare at me curiously. "What were you doing in Colonel Sink's office, sergeant?"

I cock my head. "That would be staff sergeant, sir," I reply, and his eyes widen slightly. "And I don't think that's really any of your business." I motion to his stack of papers. "Good luck with your other court martials, sir." I salute during his stunned silence, and stroll out the door with a shit-eating grin on my face.

Goodbye, Herbert.

* * *

I walk into the mess hall, and I'm immediately greeted by shouts of celebration. All of the non-coms and the rest of Second Platoon are gathered around the table, and someone has stolen or scrounged a bottle of whisky and is pouring glasses. I jump back but laugh at everyone's delighted faces. "What the hell is going on?"

"Didn't you hear the news?" Malarky says, picking me up by the waist and spinning me around. "No, what - AH!" I shriek, hanging on for dear life. "Put me down, Don!"

"Why should I, Princess?" he chuckles, and I kick him in the side. "Oof!"

He puts me down reluctantly, and I put my hands on his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe it's because I'm your fucking staff sergeant?" I grin mischievously. Don's eyes widen.

"No shit!" Bill pipes up, walking over and drawing me into a hug. "Welcome to the big boy's club, girlie!" I laugh and withdraw myself from his embrace. "But wait, what's the news? Is the war over?" I ask, motioning to the alcohol.

Lip snorts. "I wish, but no," he smiles. "Sobel got transferred to Chilton Foliat, and Winters is back with Easy." The men whistle at this, and I smile.

"You're welcome for that, by the way," I add, and Bull looks over. I glance at all of them as they look at me questioningly. "I suggested Sink transfer Sobel. Never thought he would follow through, though," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Wait, let me get this straight," George says, laughing. "You walk in there under the firing squad, talk Sink into giving Winters back and kicking Sobel out, and then he_ promotes you_?" He raises his glass to me. "Your Highness, I bow to you," he says, and flourishes a fake bow.

"Save it 'til the coronation, Luz," I say dryly, waving him away. Joe emerges from the crowd and stands in front of me, shaking his head with laughter in his eyes. "Oh, what?" I say sassily. He just hits me lightly on the shoulder. "Nothing, it's just that you saved the entire company's ass, and you could have gotten sent home for that." His eyes suddenly cloud over with conflict. "And I can't decide if that would have been a good thing or not," he says quietly. I nod slowly, grimacing. "I'd rather suffer together than separately," I confess to him honestly, my stomach knotting.

"But I don't want you to have to suffer at all," he says quietly, and I exhale slowly. "Later," I say. "Not here, come to my house. My window will be open." He nods slowly, and I smile back at him. "Let's just enjoy the party." I turn to the boys. "I think I've earned myself a shot or two, wouldn't you say, boys?" Their cheers drift into the afternoon and through the night.

* * *

**Next chapter, Uppottery! And finally getting this show on the road!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Y'all are the best, seriously! So happy that you're enjoying this story, and I finished plotting it out today and I am so excited about where it's going to go from here. Read on!**

* * *

The air drifting through my open window was chilly as the sun set on the horizon, the last dwindling rays spotlighting on the hardwood floors. I sat on my bed, silently watching them fade, waiting on Joe to knock on the door.

In my hands I held the reply from my father I had received from the Withoulses after I had returned from the company's impromptu party in the mess hall. I had been right about the postal censors, and my father had gotten my message about invading Europe. I reread his words for the third time that day.

"_My darling daughter, I knew this day would come, but there was no way I could prepare myself for the worry and fear that overtook your mother and I when we heard the news. We know you will take care of the men around you, but I worry who will take care of __**you**_ _when you are incapable. _

_However, we are so very proud of you, and congratulate you on your promotion! Little girl no more, I suppose, now a woman in command of her own men. Your mother particularly loved that little tidbit. _

_Elise's wedding has been postponed. It resulted in a full-on meltdown last week when William shipped out to his training camp in North Africa. I can't think about it too much, or the echoic memory of her screeches give me a headache!_

_We haven't had any news lately from Henry or Martin, though we do know that they are doing well as of late. Keep them in your prayers. I know I'm preaching to the choir, there! _

_Eloise, we love you dearly. Greet every day with thankfulness, no matter what. Cherish life. Love unconditionally and do your best. Stay safe, my darling. We love you and look forward to your next letter. _

_With much love, Daddy."_

I refolded the letter and placed it next to me on the bed. Who would take care of me if I couldn't take care of myself? The unanswered question rang in my ears, and sadness began to filter through my heart and into my veins. For the first time during my training, I began to feel doubt. Was I ready for what was coming? Were the men? With a sudden heaviness, I realized there was no way to prepare anyone, let alone myself, for what would be thrown at us. I pursed my lips together, and stared blankly into the wall, unintentionally dwelling on the reality of the fate of my men.

_Rap rap!_ Two knocks on the door downstairs ripped me out of my hypnosis, and I quickly descended the stairs and walked through the kitchen. I opened the door to find a disheveled and clearly bothered Joe leaning up against the door frame.

"Hey," I said quietly, offering a small smile. "Come on in." He walked tiredly into the room, looking around. "Are your hosts not home?" he asked, and I shook my head. "No, they're not. They went out to the pub with their older friends," I said as stood there. Something was up, because he was being unusually quiet. I reached over and gently took his hand, leading him up the stairs.

I walked into my room but he stopped at the doorway, looking around with a small smirk, the first smile I'd seen all evening. "Is this your room?" he asked slyly, and I nodded, putting my mail on my desk. "A little scandalous, Miss Saylor, having a man in your room after hours unsupervised," he grinned, walking over and flopping on my bed, stretching his arms and legs out like a starfish.

I snorted. "By all means, rumple up my bed," I rolled my eyes, and he lifted an eyebrow from where he lay. "Gladly," he replied devilishly, and I walked over to where he lay, poking at him to scoot over. "Not like that, gracious," I scolded, and he laughed quietly. I propped my head up on my hand as I gazed at him, a comfortable silence settling between us. "What's wrong, Joe?"

He closed his eyes and adopted a peaceful demeanor, one that I could tell was fake by the way he pursed his lips together. "I don't want you to go to war with us," he spoke evenly, and I forced myself to bite back the angry retort that had popped into my head. He opened one eye and gauged my reaction carefully, but I kept my facial features neutral. "Why?" I whispered.

His hand grabbed my free one. "Because, for the first time in my life, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen to you when we get over there, that I won't be able to protect you, that -" But I held up a finger to his lips.

"Hush," I said, and he fell silent. "You think I don't have the same doubts? That I'll fail not only you, but all of the men? I'm afraid too, Joe!" I said, raising myself off of the bed. "I'm terrified. I don't like the idea of you out there, of what could happen to you, but I'd rather be there together than apart." I turned and walked slowly to my window, and placed my hands on the cool ledge. It had clouded over outside and begun to drizzle. Joe sighed from the bed.

"It's not the same," he said stubbornly. As much as I wanted to fight and argue, I knew he was right. It wasn't the same. Statistically, as a female, the odds of survival were heaped against me. Jumping out of the airplane was one thing, but what about when I landed? I'd be fine if I landed with my men, but if something went wrong and I landed alone…

I swallowed hard. _Alone_. Out of all the things that could happen to me, all the possibilities of horror and losing my men and my friends, finding myself alone was the most frightening. I shook my head. I refused to dwell on that now.

I turned to Joe, who had sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's not the same," I said quietly, and he looked startled to see that I wasn't putting up a fight. "I know what could happen to me. And I'm scared, too." I crossed over and sat next to him on the bed, taking his hand and looking him square in the eyes. "But I can't go home, not now. I have a duty to you, the men, and my country. I'm doing this with y'all," I said, intent on him seeing my side. He just looked right back at me, and let out a resigned sigh through his nose.

"And what about us?" he said, emotion beginning to leak through. "What about you being promoted, and me remaining a corporal? What about having to watch you being put in danger every day? What if…" he began, but then dropped off. He didn't have to say it, I already knew what he envisioned. _What if you die?_

"Promotions don't matter to me, Joe. I would still feel the same about you if I was a civilian or a general. We'll have to be careful, but I don't care. I want _you_, and if that means following you through a war and taking up all the room in your foxhole-" I broke off, watching as he tried to hide his smile. "Then so be it. But I'm not going home."

"Why?" he asked, suddenly impassioned again. "What's so bad about home? You could have a normal life, you could ride your horses, go back to college, be with your family."

"Do you know what happens to me if I go home?" I asked, sadness infiltrating my voice. "I get married. I'll get married off." Joe snapped his head up and looked at me in disbelief. "What?" he hissed.

I took a deep breath. "The reason I'm here, the reason I left home in the first place, was because I was getting bad grades at LSU and my parents pulled me out. I lived at home for a few months, and it was hell. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without my mother following me, my father barely spoke to me, and my sister was intolerable. She had gotten engaged, and began to goad me on why I wasn't engaged, either. And then _he _showed up to dinner one night." I narrowed my eyes, and Joe slipped a hand around my waist. "Greg Forsythe, the man who lived up the road from us and owned the surrounding land. He's old, Joe - he's fifty-two, and at first my parents said no, but then they started thinking. I was the last child, I wasn't going to inherit anything, but Forsythe had no children. And when he died, all of his money and land would go to me. So they said yes. They tried to sell me off. He's vile," I stopped, shivering. "He looks at me like a piece of meat. He's worse than Sobel, and he used to try to get me alone until my brothers caught wind of what he was doing. Home is not my home anymore."

I dwindled into silence, as Joe sat next to me, stiff in shock. I felt his fingers curl protectively around my waist. "So you ran," he finished, and I nodded.

"I ran far, far away," I muttered quietly, turning to look at him. "I can't go home, Joe. I just can't."

"Okay," he sighed. "I don't like it, but okay." He looked so forlorn that I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, smiling when pulled me closer. I grinned lazily after pulling away, and he groaned, grabbing my face lightly.

"Stop being so goddamn pretty all the damn time, will ya?" he snarled, and I laughed and pushed him away. I unpinned my hair from it's usual bun and shook out my long, raggedy waves. "Now, how about that haircut?"

* * *

The end of May was brisk and drizzly in Upottery. The mud was god-awful as we descended in a wave from the transport trucks, and Lieutenant Compton hollered our instructions on where to go. As men scurried this way and that, I grabbed on to Gene's hand as he hauled us away from the fray. "Where are we supposed to go?" I yelled, grabbing onto my helmet and being dragged through the mud. "No clue," he said, looking back at me. "But I bet Compton knows."

We made it to where he stood and we saluted. "Sir," Gene panted out. "Do you know where the medics are stationed? We have all our gear, we just need a dry place to put it."

Compton looked at Gene with a genial smile. "Just put it in the officer's quarters for now, we'll get you squared away soon." He turned his eyes on me as I shook out a Lucky Strike and dug in my pockets for a lighter. "So, you're Easy Company's little woman," he stated, smirking.

I looked at Gene, utterly exasperated. _Little woman? _Yet something told me this man could handle a little shit thrown his way. I looked up impetuously as I lit my cigarette and ashed it off to the side. "And you're Easy Company's football player," I replied calmly, and Gene snorted.

Compton wrinkled his eyebrows and looked down on me with a half-amused, half-curious expression. "Is she always this sassy?" he asked Gene, and he shrugged.

"Yes, I am," I said pointedly, but smiling behind my cigarette. Compton scoffed incredulously but smiled and extended a hand. "Lieutenant Buck Compton at your disposal, ma'am."

I took it his hand with a strong grip. "Staff Sergeant Eloise Saylor, and it's a pleasure," I replied happily.

Compton laughed. "You can call me Buck if I can call you Eloise?" he propositioned, and I nodded. "Certainly, sir. Now let's go get this crap off our backs, Gene." I saluted as we walked away. "I like him, he's got a sense of humor and wants to make friends, unlike _somebody_ I know," I nudged Gene pointedly. He rolled his eyes but made no reply. Gene still hadn't bonded as fully with the men as I had, and he remained steadfast on his approach that an easier job meant no fraternizing.

We walked past Hoobler talking to what appeared to be a very Cockney German soldier. "Hoobler, lesson one: stay away from the Germans," I yelled slowly, eliciting a laugh from the surrounding men. Hoobler stuck out his middle finger but winked and continued to investigate the Luger that the British soldier was showing him. Poor Hoob was in a right frenzy to get a Luger, come hell or high water.

A jeep sped by, carrying Winters and Buck, who seemed to be getting a very strong talking-to. Gene shook his head. "Six days here, and he's already getting a lecture," he drawled slowly, and I took the last drag off my Lucky. "Somehow, I know y'all are gonna be thicker than thieves before the week's out."

Winters hopped out of the jeep, leaving a chagrined Buck and strolled into Lieutenant Meehan's tent. I walked over and rested the heavy boxes of medical supplies on the tailgate and nodded my head at Winters. "Don't be too offended," I addressed Buck, sympathizing with his confusion. "Winters does everything by the book, keeps every person in line. The man is basically perfection walking."

Buck's eyes glimmered mischievously. "Sounds like someone has a crush," he said, while both Gene and I glanced at each other and laughed. "No offense, sir," I giggled. "But you couldn't be more wrong."

Gene raised an eyebrow at me. "Wrong man, right company," he said smirking, and my mouth dropped open. How dare he say that in front of a commanding officer!

Buck roared with laughter at my worried expression. "Don't worry, sergeant, I won't tell," he said, tone light. Cheeks reddened with embarrassment, I turned to leave and follow Gene, but Buck jumped out of the jeep and grabbed my medical supplies for me. "I'll help you with this," he said, nodding back at Meehan's closed flat tent. "Got to start redeeming myself somehow." I nodded quietly as I held open the tent flap next door for him, and he sat down the heavy box next to where the other supplies were being stored. "Thank you, sir," I said, but he shrugged it off. "No problem, let me know if you need any more help," he replied, pausing at the opening of our tent. "And Eloise?"

I looked up at the use of my first name. "I will find out who that other man is, if only for my personal curiosity, and to tease you mercilessly." He laughed at my peeved expression and strolled out into the mud.

* * *

A few days later we had been gathered _en masse_ under a converted airplane hangar, and I stared blankly at overblown map of Normandy, my heart in my stomach. Somehow, looking at the place where the men and I would be jumping made me feel as if the Germans were at our back right now. And in a way, I guess they were.

Bill leaned over to me. "Damn, I'm sure glad we're not assaulting those beaches, huh Princess?" I nodded back, as he did have a point. Those boys would be catching some hell down there.

I zoned back onto the lecture Meehan was giving. "...thus linking Utah and Omaha into one continual beachhead," he finished, walking across the stage. "Each trooper will learn this operation by heart, and know his and every other outfit's mission to the detail." That was quite a tall order, and I made a plan to go study the maps as soon as the lecture was over.

"Lieutenant Meehan?" piped up Dukeman, raising a hand. "Yes, Dukeman," he answered, pointing at him. "Sir, are we dropping tonight?" Dukeman asked, simultaneously raising the head of every paratrooper in the room. "When it's time for you to know, we'll let you know," Meehan replied. I scanned my eyes around the room to see how my boys were taking this news. Joe was chain smoking heartily, eyes trained on Meehan and the maps, while Gene looked like he was about to cry.

"In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps and reconnaissance photos until you can draw a map of the area by memory. Now we will drop behind this Atlantic wall five hours before the 4th infantry lands at Utah," he continued, smacking the map. "Now, between our assembly area and the battalion's objective, there's a German garrison, right here in this area, Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Easy Company will destroy that garrison," he paused, and I sighed heavily. Of course we would.

* * *

I was assembling my pack while Toye had a temper tantrum in the background. Of course I sympathized with him over the needless weight we all had to carry in and on our packs, but there was no use in complaining about it.

Talbert sat next to me, trying to figure how to fit a length of rope into his stuffed bag. "How the hell doyou get this in?" he muttered to himself, and I looked over. "I just rolled up all the cloth stuff, and then layered it by size," I offered. He grinned at me appreciatively. "Thanks, Princess. Knew we kept you around for a reason," he joked, and I smirked as I pounded my gauze bag down with the butt of my M1.

Mail call came around. "Talbert!" the soldier shouted, and Tab raised his hand. "Saylor?" he asked me, and I nodded as he gave me a stack of mail. "Oh Lord," I said, taking it. "Who sent me the phone book?" Tab laughed and looked at his package as I rifled through the stack.

"Condoms?" Joe asked, stepping up beside us and giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes slowly as Tab chuckled. "Probably," he replied. "So whatcha got?"

Tab read the tag on the front. "'Dear Floyd, give 'em hell'. It's from the chief of the Kokomo Police Department," he said and Joe smirked. "Woah," Tab drawled as he pulled out a new pistol. "You gotta love cops!"

"Listen up, if you did not sign your G.I. Life Insurance Policy, you go on over and see Sergeant Evans at the Headquarters company tent. You boys don't let your families miss out on ten thousand dollars," Lip said, moving on down the line. I went back to shuffling through my mail as Joe stepped up next to me. "And what'd you get?"

I frowned. "Letter from my sister… no thank you, you can have that," I said, handing it off to Joe as he laughed. "Letters from my girlfriends back home."

"Girlfriends? Can I see?" Tab asked, extending a hand. "Sure Tab, go crazy," I laughed as he ripped them open excitedly.

"And… one from my father," I finished, opening it gingerly while Joe read my sister's letter. "Says here that she considered throwing herself into the Mississippi River, she was so sad when 'dearest William' left," Joe smirked, well-aware of my dislike of her.

"She'd never do that, the water is too dirty for her," I replied as I finally got my father's letter open. I eagerly read his usual greeting, but at the next few lines my body shut down. I could no longer see the page in front of me as my vision swam, and my heart began to beat double-time. I felt cold, and I simultaneously felt nothing. A tear I hadn't realized had formed streaked quietly down my cheek. I couldn't move.

"Eloise? Eloise!" I was vaguely aware of someone shaking my arm, and I snapped back into reality to see that it was Joe, concern and panic over my vegetable state plastered on his face. "What's wrong, what happened?"

I took of my helmet and tried not to hyperventilate, and tilting my head back I squeezed my eyes shut to get rid of my tears. But the wave of sorrow hit me right then and there, and though I wanted so badly to hide it from the other men, my body gave out and I collapsed.

"Shit!" I heard Tab yell, and I tried to reassure them, but everything was slowly going black. I gave in to the darkness, and the world fell silent.

The next thing I knew, there was a cool cloth being pressed to my forehead, the dampness cutting through the fog. Lew's voice floated above me somewhere. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded angrily, and I opened my eyes.

Nearly every one of my friends' faces hovered above me, all covered in grease for the jump. George stared at me with wide eyes, and Lipton had a hand on each side of my face. "Her eyes are open," he called over his shoulder to Lew, who strided over. Lip produced a little flashlight and shined it in my pupils, and I followed the light as he instructed. His face slackened a little bit in relief. "Where's Doc Roe?" he demanded impatiently. I sighed and closed my eyes again as a headache began to form behind my forehead. "No, no, keep those eyes open," Joe demanded, and I turned my eyes to him, tears forming once again. "My letter?" I questioned groggily, and he withdrew it from his pocket. "I have it, don't worry," he crooned, and George glanced at him knowingly. No doubt he had told them already.

I looked up at Lip, who was holding my head steady. "I'm okay, Lip, I really… I'm okay," I tried to tell him, but he shook his head. "You're not getting up, so forget about it. Doc's on his way."

I had to make him understand. "It's not me," I mumbled. "It's Martin, he was on Burma, Martin, my brother… we need to find him, I don't want him out there alone," I groaned, another wave of pain floating from the back of my head.

"He was killed, sir," Joe says quietly. "He was a Marine." I hear some of the guys around me groan, and I screw my eyes together.

"I'm here, I'm here," I hear Gene pant, and I pity him having to run from wherever he was just to tend to me. "What've we got?"

"Possible concussion, she says she's fine, but still…" Lip drawls, and I hear Gene sigh. "Good job, sir, she would have been using every excuse to get up." He slaps my lightly on the face, and I reopen my tired eyes. "Hi," I whisper out, and Gene smiles sadly. "Hey _cherie_," he says back, and then motions at Tab and George. "Okay, let's help her sit up."

That was a bit too much for me. I wasn't an invalid. "No," I said, pushing myself up. "I swear, I'm okay." I pressed a hand to my dizzy forehead. "If we're jumping, I'm jumping too."

"Looks like we're about to find out," said Lip, and I heard Meehan's voice echo through the crowd. "No jump tonight! The invasion has been postponed, we're on a twenty-four hour stand down."

Gene sighed in frustration, but turned back to me. "She's still a bit cross-eyed," he said, and I scowled at him. "Let's get her up."

Joe and Bull gently grabbed under my arms and hoisted me upward. I stood for a second holding their hands for support, and tried to take a step. My body betrayed me and I swayed slightly to the right, and Joe circled an arm around my waist to stop me from falling.

"Shit, take her to the med tent," Lew said, exasperated. "I got her," Joe quipped, and I turned to look at him incredulously. "Put your arms around my neck," he said, but I just looked at him dryly. He sighed, and in one swift movement scooped my legs out from under me. I yelped and desperately grabbed his shoulders to keep steady. "I told you to put your arms around my neck," he said snarkily, but I was too dizzy to argue. "This is embarrassing," I mumbled out, and Frank stifled a chuckle. "You'll do it for us one day, Princess, don't you worry," Lip reassured me as I closed my eyes. "And keep those eyes open!" I snapped them open and focused on Joe's face instead.

"Let's get her to the aid station," Gene said, and Joe followed. Though I tried to keep my eyes open, the gentle swaying lulled me into a black stupor.

* * *

I awoke to a hand caressing my face. I turned my head to look at Joe, who was watching anxiously from the side of the stretcher. I opened my mouth to speak, but two traitor tears slid sideways into my hair.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," I cried silently, and Joe wiped one of my tears aside. "Now everyone thinks I'm weak." This thought was almost too much to bear.

"No, no," he crooned. "They don't think that at all. Anyone would have reacted the same way." I tried to slow my breathing down, but my brother's face kept floating before me. Scenes of his death haunted me as my imagination ran wild with the possibilities of what could have happened. Joe leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead, grabbing my hand.

I sighed. "Martin was my favorite brother. He taught me how to ride. He was the only person who knew that I was the one that put the frog in Elise's bathwater...well," I paused, glancing over at Joe, wanting terribly to wipe the concerned expression off his face. "I guess you know now too."

It worked as he smiled that contagious smile of his, and I grinned back sadly. He sobered instantly. "Are you going to be okay?"

I mused on it for a moment before I answered. "If anything, all I want now is to kick some German ass," I said slowly, completely serious. "But I'm not angry, I'm just so… sad." I looked over to him. "I'd feel better if I could go try to be normal with the men. I want to get up."

He nodded, and helped prop me up. My head swam as the blood rushed through my brain. "Doc said it was fine for you to leave whenever you woke up, thankfully you didn't have a concussion," he said as I swung my legs off the edge of the table.

As we walked outside the tent, I noticed it had grown dark. "What time is it?" I asked, startled. Joe checked his watch. "2030." I had been out for a while, then. "The guys are all in the mess hall watching some movie for the thousandth time. It's not helping, but I bet you showing up will." Under cover of the darkness, he held my hand as we walked. "You passing out like that was frightening as hell," he admitted, and I looked over at him gently. "Kinda thought you had been shot, the way you crumpled down. Tab screamed."

"He did not!" I laughed, the noise sounding strange to me. Joe smiled in response. "Oh, yes, he did. You can tease him about it when we get there."

We snuck into the side of the tent, careful not to block the projector that was showing the latest, and oldest, film from the States. I picked my way carefully across rows of men until I saw George and Skip sitting next to two empty seats. Joe and I hurried and sat down, and I mustered up a smile.

"Hey, look who it is, our girl," Skip said sweetly, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. George looked over and winked at me, and I winked back. The other men had turned around and given me nods, and I immediately felt like I was back where I belonged. Joe slung an arm around the back of my chair, and I leaned into him slightly as we watched the movie, trying to push the horrid day out of my mind.

* * *

June 5 dawned bright and clear. I had fallen asleep sometime during the movie, and Joe had walked me back to the medic's tent afterwards. Before I turned to go inside, he grabbed my arm and swiftly pulled me to him. "Listen to me," he said. "I don't care what you're thinking right now, but you're going to make it." His eyes seared into mine. "Understand?"

I nodded slowly, and rested my forehead on his. "Go get some rest," he ordered, and I smiled despite my attitude. "Yes, sir," I whispered back as he kissed me. I collapsed on my bed and curled up into a ball, too exhausted to cry and too wired to sleep.

Later that day, I walked with the men towards the airfield, keeping in step with Winters, whose expression was unreadable. Most men had looks of grim determination, or plain dread, but Winters seemed calm as always. I envied him for that.

I had carefully applied my grease to my face, stroking upwards against the skin. _Like night cream,_ I thought to myself, and was struck how something as trivial as night cream could send me into a spiral of panic. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into, yet the idea of night cream stuck with me all day long.

Gene walked up to me as I set my gear down. "Want me to do your parachute and pack for you?" he asked, and I nodded gratefully. He quickly went to work, zipping and tying and pulling the pack and parachute tightly onto my back. I gasped for air, and Gene paused. "I'm okay, it just feels like a corset," I wheezed, and he let out a gentle laugh.

"All set," he announced, and came around to face me. "How are you holding up, honestly?"

"I feel okay, a little numb," I replied. "I'm just going to get this done, and do it right. For my brother's sake. We're going to get it done," I told him, though it sounded more like a pep talk to myself. He nodded and clasped a hand to my shoulder. "Now let's get that chute on you."

I walked up with Gene after we had gotten ourselves situated to the double-line of men sitting down in front of the plane. My heart caught in my throat as I realized that this was really it, and that soon we'd be invading France. I trembled slightly and automatically gave Gene's hand a squeeze. He looked over at me and squeezed it back, nodding seriously. I had to be brave. I had to be good.

"Gentlemen, Sergeant Saylor is handing these out for air sickness. Orders are every man takes one now, another thirty minutes in the air," Lieutenant Meehan announced as I started handing out the airsickness tablets to each man. I smiled as best as I could to everyone, trying to instill good morale into the situation. After I reached the end of the line, I settled on the back row across from Gene, and popped one of the tablets in my mouth. I felt as if I was about to throw up.

Winters stood at the head of the columns, looking down thoughtfully. "Second platoon, listen up," he began, and I watched him carefully. "Good luck. God bless you. I'll see you in the assembly area." He reached down to help the first man up, and I watched as he shook hands with every man as they rose. Finally, after helping Gene he reached for me, and as I stood he smiled down at me gently. I smiled back at this wonderful man, who I had almost gotten kicked out of the airborne for, and knew that beyond a doubt he would always have my utmost respect. I saluted him as best as I could, and walked towards the ladder leading up to the plane.

I struggled with the heavy leg bag as I entered, but Winters boosted me up into the front of the plane and I got through the doorway. As I stood there, I looked down the columns to see each man looking up at me with a mixture of respect, hope, and fear. They knew that I cared about them, and I hoped that they cared about me. I nodded to the cabin and took my seat next to Joe near the front. He met my gaze evenly as I looked at him with determination. As Winters settled down on my right, I gazed across the plane at Gene, and suddenly remembered my nightmare. Though we weren't sitting in the same places, the fear that I would lose them all settled deep into my stomach and churned.

Across from us, Don had whipped out his map and was studying it intensely. After a moment of hesitation, I unbuttoned my front shirt pocket and carefully untangled my most prized possession, my white coral rosary. A golden crucifix dangled from the end, and without any thought, closed my eyes and began to pray.

_...and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…_

_...deliver us from evil, deliver us from evil, deliver us…_

_Please_, I added as I chanted that one line over and over in my head. _If it be your will, please deliver us all from this evil_.

As the engines started, I opened my eyes and looked out over the men. Most looked like they were going to be sick to their stomachs, and Joe slumped onto me from the side. "Ugh," he said, readjusting himself. "Those airsickness pills are making me loopy."

I sighed as the plane rattled ominously and began to move towards the takeoff strip. Whether it was the airsickness pills or something else, I never knew, but a deep sense of peace settled within me as our plane accelerated and took off. My eyes alighted with hope looked out on each of the boys as they stared down at their feet or off into the distance. We would be okay.

As night began to fall, I slid my hand into Joe's and laced my fingers with his. "I have something to tell you," I whispered to him, and he turned to look at me, confused. I grinned, the pills going to my head. "I'm in love with you."

His eyes widened as we soared over the Channel, the moon glinting off the sea below. A goofy grin took over his face, and he leaned over. "Tell me that again later when we're not drugged up, about to jump out of an airplane, and potentially fall to our death," he replied, but I felt him lean down and kiss my neck. "And for the record, I love you too. I'd have to, to jump out of an airplane after you."

I laughed gently, my fear dissipating slightly as I enjoyed the singular moment between us. But from across the aisle, George winked and Don wiggled his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes. Even in an invasion, it seemed Easy Company was still Easy Company.

Winters touched me gently on the arm. "Eloise, come see this," he said, and motioned for me to scoot near the door opening. Settling myself carefully on the bench next to it, Winters pointed. "Look out there."

What I saw was spectacular. A sky full of C-47's as far as I could see both up and down, and far below, the ocean was being overtaken by carrier ships that would assist the invasion. I watched this mass demonstration of our might, and pride swelled within me. We would win this goddamn war, and then I would return home, and live in peace. I glanced back to look at Joe, and as he smiled at me, I could think of no better person to live in peace with.

* * *

**FINALLY on to Europe! It baffles me that the 70th anniversary of D-Day is almost here... remember those brave men, and take time to thank a veteran this Memorial Day! Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Once again, y'all are the with all of the reviews! Special shout out to FallynAshe and her tenacity for reviewing this story: you the real MVP. **

**My uncle, a retired Marine, and I started binge-watching BoB/The Pacific/Generation Kill yesterday in honor of Memorial Day, and just wanted to tell y'all that he got emotionally invested in these characters five minutes in. Just a comforting reminder that we're not alone in our crazy love for these men!**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

* * *

As I sat in the plane and touched each bead of my rosary, I realized I had stopped praying and had begun a very different chant altogether.

_I wanna get out of the plane_, I thought anxiously. _I wanna get out of the fucking plane. Please, let me just make it out of the goddamn plane._

I was past the point of reverence towards God, I just needed to be free. Put my body into action. I felt as if I was being suffocated, and I began to get antsy.

Joe noticed the bouncing of my knee and put a warm hand on top of it. "Are you okay?" I heard him yell, and as I turned to nod at him, my vision cleared from the fog of fear that had obscured it. I looked around the cabin at the men praying, smoking, or staring into nothingness, and I began to get angry. I began to hate the Germans, hate them for starting this useless war, and was so thankful that I had a rifle to jump with. I was going to annihilate every German I saw, for my brother, for my men. _Blood of your blood for mine_, I thought vindictively, and I could feel the swirling tendrils of blood lust swelling in my chest.

Looking back at Joe, he saw what was happening inside my head. Staring back at me, he held my hand tightly. "I know," he said, the same maniacal glint overtaking his features. "Trust me, I know." He seethed intensity, and it clicked. _Oh._ Of course he knew how I felt. He had to listen in fear and horror at reports of Germans slaughtering his people by the thousands. My vendetta against the enemy I had yet to see or fight took on a whole new angle, a whole new meaning.

I looked out of the window, the temporary cloud cover making it appear that we were alone in the air. Winters sat next to the jump opening, looking us over every few minutes or so. I attached my eyes to his frame with a kind of desperate ferocity that I had never felt before. Time seemed to slow down to adjust to the flux of the blood within my veins. I recognized the first signs of frenzy, but I did nothing to abate them. It was too late for that now.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to hear popping noises in the background of the plane's roar. I sat up straighter, strung as tightly as a violin, and gripped Joe's hand with fresh purpose. "It's starting," I whispered, knowing he couldn't hear me over the noise. I think I mostly said it for myself.

I looked over towards the men, who had all become ramrod straight and awake as I had. We glanced warily at one another, trying not to show our fear but unable to put on a mask of calm.

Suddenly next to us, the red jump light flashed on. Winters stood up and motioned us to get ready. I held my carabiner with a shaking hand, looking at Winters like he was my savior. I stood up and quickly clipped in, patting myself down and making sure I had all my clips fastened. Behind me, Joe swiftly put his hands to my waist and pulled me against him, masking it as an equipment check. But I felt the trembling in his hands and knew that he was pulling me towards him as a goodbye. _But only temporary_, I reminded myself. _Only for a moment._

The shock of the incoming artillery fire took us all by surprise. Which each booming explosion, the plane rollicked and bucked like a foal out to pasture for the first time. It took me off guard, and I fell down sideways, hitting my ribs hard. "Shit," I hissed out in pain, as Joe reached down and tried to haul me up, the weight of my leg bag preventing me from standing up myself.

From outside the cabin, we heard a massive explosion, and curiosity drove me past my fear to peek past Winters in the doorway. A C-47 had been hit, and a massive fireball consumed it from where it was plummeting down towards earth in a spiral of flame. True fear, the kind that makes you peaceful when looking into the eyes of death, overtook me as I calmly watched with an open mouth as the plane made contact with the ground and blew up into pieces.

Hands came underneath my arms, and Winters hauled me into standing position, looking me knowingly in the eyes. He had seen it too, and understood. One hit and we would all die.

Our plane began to descend lower, causing my stomach to drop. I knew the pilots were trying to avoid as much enemy fire as possible, but the descent caused us to pick up a massive amount of speed. "If we get any lower, we won't need any parachutes!" a panicked Skip yelled out to the cabin.

Just as his yell dwindled off, the green jump light came on. Time began to go into fast forward, and Dick turned around. "Let's go!" he yelled to the plane, and swiftly jumped out. Before my brain knew what my body was doing, I dashed to the doorway and threw myself out with abandon, entering a world of flashing lights and the screams of terrified men.

I didn't think to open my eyes and see what I was jumping into. I just prayed fervently, all past aggression dissipating from my body as I hurtled to the ground. Before I was about to start screaming bloody murder, my chute deployed, yanking me upward. My leg bag snapped off of me like a twig, and I cursed as my rifle started to slip off of my shoulder. Squeezing my arms against my chest, I entrapped the band as it swung in front of me, dangling precariously. Looking down, I noticed I was heading for a bunch of trees and reaching up with my other arm pulled helplessly on my harness, trying to direct myself away from an involuntary hanging. Out of nowhere, a little gust of wind blew me a little to my left towards an open field. To my right a German machine gun opened up and began to fire tracer bullets towards the sky.

The ground came fast towards me, and I prepared myself for impact. I landed cleanly, accidentally dropping my rifle, and it bounced a few feet away from where I settled on the dirt. Hurriedly taking off my chute and leaving it in a crumpled wad, I plastered myself to the earth as the machine gun started up again, so near that I could feel the vibrations rattle my teeth.

I took a deep breath and assessed my situation. Strangely, there was less noise on the ground than in the air. I hadn't expected to land in a fiery inferno of explosions and Germans, but I hadn't really expected to land in a farmer's cabbage field. Unless…

_Oh, fuck._

This wasn't the right drop zone. In fact, I mused to myself as I raised my head a centimeter off the ground and scanned my view, I had arrived in some poor French family's back garden. I was obscured from sight by a thin plywood fence, and I raised myself slightly as I lunged forward and grabbed my gun. I shrugged off my pack and checked to see if I still had my map, feeling it's folded paper edges and sighing in relief.

But where exactly was I? I had to find a road or some sort of landmark. I hastily tried to pull up a mental image of the sand tables, and failed miserably. I would just have to rely on the map, then. I crouched down next to the fence and peered over. The German gun was about fifty feet away from me, obscured by a thick bramble of trees. I hopped over the fence and crawled through the high grass of the pasture, but stopped suddenly when the gun cut off and heard angry voices shouting out questions that I had no answers for. Holding my breath, I waited for the gun to start firing again before I quickly crouched down and ran towards a distant road.

Lying low down in the ditch, I looked for a sign or anything that could point me in the right direction. I squinted my eyes in the darkness for any details, and caught the faint glimmer of a small metal signpost. I carefully snuck closer to it, trying not to make any unnecessary noise, but to my ears each twig cracking under my feet sounded like the pop of a bullet.

"Sainte Mere-Eglise," I mouth quietly to myself, then frowned. Scrambling for my map, I folded it as best as I could and looked dimly in the darkness for Mere-Eglise. I whipped out my lighter from my pocket and grabbed my raincoat from my pack. Hovering underneath it, I flicked my lighter only to read that I was nowhere near Easy Company's objective. My stomach sank as I plotted the linear distance from Mere-Eglise to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont, more than twelve kilometers away. Seven miles. I stifled a groan.

I packed away my backpack, throwing my maps and my raincoat inside and grabbed my rifle. I send a quick prayer of thanks that I had enough sense to keep it in my arms during the jump, and flicked off the safety. I quietly checked both ways for any sign of danger before venturing into the road, shaded by trees and pitch black. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I take in the lack of sound, the lack of color, and the lack of life. And then it hits me.

I'm all alone.

* * *

When I land, I land hard and fast. It knocks the wind out of me, and I crawl into a ditch, trying to avoid the constant fire from the Nazis in the next field. I'm so alone it ain't even funny, but I find myself shedding off my chute and grasping for the gun that isn't there. "Shit," I swear, but then remember the pistol in my pack, and wield it out in front of me. I'll be damned if some Nazi kills me right when I land because I'm unarmed.

I run quickly away from the field and into the woods. I have no goddamn idea where I'm going, but I know it's better than being a sitting duck. I find a little dirt road, and taking out my compass, I decide to follow it north-east. I know that Sainte Marie-du-Monte is that way, and from the sand tables I studied, I know that I haven't gotten there yet from the scenery.

As I walk, I think about Eloise. I think about how I didn't even have the chance to tell her anything before she threw herself out of the plane. How cold her body felt when I put my hands on her hips, how embarrassed I was because my hands were trembling. The whole plane ride she had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions, from numb to terrified to murderous. That last one was surprising; it was one thing to hear her talk flippantly about kicking a grenade at Sobel, but when I looked in her eyes, she wasn't there anymore. At least, not the girl I had gotten to know. She looked like she could fire a bazooka at Sobel, or scalp him even. She was glorious.

And now she was gone. _Gone_, my mind panicked, _gone gone gone dead? Gone gone gone gone... dead?_ As much as I wanted to ignore it, the _dead_ kept popping back up, an unanswered question that I did my best to wave away. But images of her lying in a field, eyes open and glassy, blood trickling out of her mouth and nose, head thrown back from a broken spine, captured by Germans and being tortured, her being shot over and over and over and over….

_Stop_, I told my head, squeezing my eyes closed. _Stop this now_. She could take care of herself. And she would come back to me.

* * *

I wander from hedgerow to hedgerow, trying to keep low and out of the light that dawn is drawing in rapidly. So far, I hadn't had any trouble, a miracle that keeps me smiling to myself every now and then. I was so prepared to slaughter the Germans, and now here I am, walking through Normandy in the middle of an invasion with no Germans in sight.

I had stuck close to the original road for what felt like miles. I truly had no way of telling how far I'd gone, only that a couple of hours had passed, and I needed to get to the rally point before the navy began their bombardment of the beaches. I sighed to myself, and clicked my tongue impatiently. I had to pick up the pace.

Suddenly to my right, jovial German voices began to float near to the road. I cursed, momentarily freezing as I tried to decide within my panicked mind where to hide, but I hesitated too late. The voices died down as I whirled towards their direction, staring in shock at the two German soldiers looking at me in disbelief. We both grabbed for our guns at the same time, but they were faster; one of the soldiers whipped his pistol out and fired once, narrowly missing my head. I darted into the hedgerow and broke out from the bushes, but before I could take another step, I heard the crack of another bullet, this one accompanied by a stinging pain across my neck. I huffed out a grunt and fell to the ground, distracted by the pulsations of hot blood rushing across my face. I lay very still, playing possum, praying that the Germans wouldn't be interested in investigating my 'dead' body. I heard their footsteps approach from behind the line of trees, and paused as they deliberated further. I held my breath, neck tingling from the blood loss and tried to push down my need to curl up and scream out.

After what feels like an eternity, I hear them move away down the road. Whimpering, I reluctantly reach up and gently prod at my neck, hissing in pain but relief flooding my system. It was only a graze, but as I look down at the earth where I had lain, pools of blood rest heavily on the dirt. I know I've lost a good amount of blood, but as I doctor myself up with a hastily tied bandage, I know I've got to keep walking despite my dizziness.

Standing up slowly, I grab my rifle from the ground and press a firm hand to my wound, trying to stop the blood flow to a trickle. I couldn't believe that I had gotten hit so early into the war. _That's what you get when you go wandering by yourself,_ the voice in my head said slyly. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Shut up," I whispered, but I knew it was right.

Above the treeline, the orange rays of dawn broke from beneath the cloud cover. I walked hurriedly down the row, rifle with the bayonet attached held in front of me. No one was going to stop me now.

* * *

Walking into Sainte Marie-du-_whatever_, I scanned the crowd of soldiers for her face. I just needed to know she had made it. But instead of her laughing green eyes and know-it-all smirk, I found a group of tired, wounded soldiers. Damn, I couldn't even see a familiar face from my own company. My heart stilled within my chest.

"Liebgott, hey Lieb!" someone shouts, and I turn around and see Lieutenant Winters arrive with Popeye, Bill and a few more stragglers. They shove some guy named Hall in my face, but I wave them off. "You didn't hook up with Eloise out there?" I ask Bill, failing at masking the worry in my voice. He squints back at me, clearly in a mood, but concerned. "No, she ain't here with ya?" he questions back, and I shake my head and look at the ground. The mud has mixed with the blood of the day, creating a red ooze that suctions my boots to the ground. "No, she's not," I say lowly, clenching my jaw and looking past him towards the row of men. Toye clasps a hand to my shoulder reassuringly. "She'll turn up, she'll get here," he says in his gravelly voice, but even he can't mask the concern.

Winters and Buck are chatting a few feet away, and Speirs walks up to them, looking too nonchalant. It puts me on edge, and I watch him cautiously. "How many men have you assembled from Dog Company?" Winters asks, and Speirs shrugs. "A handful, maybe twenty," he replies, casting a critical eye towards us. "Are you the only officer that made it?" Winters asks again, but Speirs has his eyes trained on Buck's pack of cigarettes. "So far, still waiting for orders," he mumbles, and asks Buck for a cigarette before taking the whole pack. Before he turns to leave, he looks back at the two lieutenants. "Who hasn't made it from Easy Company yet?" he inquires, face impassive as Buck and Winters exchange a look. "Uh, Lieutenant Meehan's stick, a few other men, and the medics," Buck replies. Speirs turns to face them, a deadly calm settling over his features. "All the medics?" he asks, and Winters nods. "Yeah, Roe, Spina, and Saylor."

Speirs eyes narrow just a bit and he clenches his jaw. "Right," he says, stalking off towards the road, stepping around the dead horses. I watch him go, my mind rewinding back to England, where he would be a little more gentle around Eloise, actually smiling when she sassed off to him. The way he had gotten so close to her on the weapons range that day, his hands on her hips and whispering in her ear. My heart beat angrily in my chest. I had another rival, and by the looks of it he cared for her safety as much as I did.

Malarkey passed Speirs on the way up from the German prisoners he'd been fraternizing. I tilted my head up, looking into the sky where traces of grey smoke clouds flew across the white ones. I listened to the good-natured bickering of the men around me, all happy that they were alive. But I couldn't focus on myself right now, not when -

My thoughts were interrupted by the _pat-pat-pat_ of a Thompson going off nearby. The men and I raised out heads and looked around as Malarkey came jogging into our corner, white faced and mouth slack.

"What?" said Toye, looking him up and down. "What happened?"

"Speirs, he just...he just shot them all," Malarkey stuttered out, clearly shaken.

"Who?" I asked, and he turned his gaze on me.

"The German prisoners, all twenty of them, after handing them _cigarettes_," he stressed, and the boys looked at each other in disbelief.

"Jesus Christ," Popeye drawls out, and I look down the path where Speirs is walking delicately through the mud, no ripples on his outwardly calm surface. But I see the meaning behind his actions. I suck in a drag off my cigarette, and exhale slowly.

Killing a few Germans sounds pretty good right now. Inside me, something deep down, something dark, smiles.

* * *

I passed the remains of the smoking farmhouse wearily, taking in all of the destruction around me. A dangling paratrooper gently swung from a branch above me, his eyes wide open and mouth agape, dried blood crusted on his upper lip. His dead eyes held me in a snake charmer's hypnosis, and I realized that that could have been me. I could have landed in the trees and been hung. One leg bent backward at a broken angle as the dead soldier slowly rotated away from me, parachute fluttering from the slight breeze.

The Navy landings had started a few miles back, as that was how I was measuring time now. My watch had somehow been lost in my pack, and I had neither the time nor the energy to stop and dig around for it. All traces of human life had disappeared into the haze of the morning as I followed my same road north-east, beginning to doubt my ability to make it to the rally point. I knew that soon Easy would be making the assault on the guns at Brecourt Manor, wherever that was, and the notion of my absence did not sit well with me. I had to be there if anyone got hurt, I had to be able to take care of them.

Walking down the muddy little road, I turned the corner and heard voices in the distance, thankfully in English. I muttered a little prayer and hastily walked forward, trudging through the deep mud that had accumulated from so many pairs of boots trampling down the path. Turning the corner, I walked past a little embankment and happened to glance across the way, startling when I saw the glint of a wristwatch dangling from an outstretched hand. My eyes widened as I took in the group of German POWs, dead and lying where they fell. A cigarette still dangled from one of their palms, the wisps of its smoke still curling into the air. I stared open-mouthed and tried to make sense of it all. They had been mowed down, but not before being lured in with the cigarettes. My stomach churned at the senseless cruelty.

I reluctantly turned away and jogged into the town, sighing with relief as I read the sign that ratified that this was indeed Sainte Marie-du-Monte. The area was pure chaos, men trying to regroup with their companies milling about among those who were dying and wounded, calling out helplessly. My brain went into sensory overdrive at the sights and sounds. I hurriedly rushed from group to group.

"Easy Company? Has anyone seen Easy?" I called out, getting strange looks from the men along with negative responses. Where the hell were they? I slung my rifle over my shoulder as I headed for the makeshift field hospital. A truck full of men rattled in, each screaming in pain, and I tossed my pack, helmet, and gun aside as I ran in to help.

As I carried the stretcher into the barn, Ralph Spina came out of the woodwork and directed us to a corner. Catching his eye, I winked as he exclaimed out loud. "Fucking finally, Saylor!" he snapped, but I saw the relief on his face. I wiped my forehead, smearing some of the man's blood on my face in the process. "Where's the rest of the company?" I asked, walking towards the front to carry in the next man, Spina hot on my heels. "What, you mean all twelve of them?" he rolled his eyes, and I turned to him in disbelief. "Where the hell is everyone else?" I demanded, and he shrugged. "No idea, Meehan's stick hasn't even showed up yet," he replied calmly, and my heart sank into my feet. "To tell the truth, we all thought you were dead," he said honestly, and I looked at him with sad eyes. His gaze flickered to my neck. "Have you taken care of that yet?" he motioned to my bandage, and I ducked my head to the side. "It can wait. Let's get these men in here first," I said, walking outside.

Before I could grab another stretcher, Popeye limped up to me out of the crowd, grimacing. His eyes lit up when he saw me. "Christ Almighty! Eloise!" he cried joyfully, but was crippled again from the pain. I lunged forward and grabbed him before he collapsed on the ground. "The hell happened, Pop?" I said as I helped him limp over to the makeshift room, and tried to sit him down. "No, no!" he yelled frantically, and stood up as best he could. "I got hit in the ass."

I could have laughed if I wasn't so concerned. "In the ass? Well, Lord have mercy," I grinned quietly, helping him lay face down on a stretcher. He blushed slightly when I moved to cut his pants, and I rolled my eyes as I started to clean him up. "Embarrassment isn't allowed when you work in the medical field. Now what's happening with Easy?"

"They're taking Brecourt," he mumbled, the morphine I had stuck into him kicking in. "It's gonna be successful, no one else got hit but me I think." I breathed a sigh of relief, and Spina came up to take over. I patted Popeye on the shoulder. "I have to go help now, but I'll be back. It's good to see you," I smiled kindly and he grinned back. And once more, I stepped out into the ensuing chaos, the first feeling of hope blooming within me that somehow, it would all be okay.

* * *

An hour later, I had finished operating on fifteen men. I looked over at Spina, nodding. "I'm going to go take a breather outside. Wake me if there's any change with Easy, okay?" I said, and Spina nodded distractedly.

I found a bench outside the field hospital and plopped down wearily. My hair had fallen out of my bun, and I hadn't even had the chance or willpower to pin it back up. My hands were covered with blood from the men I had operated on, withdrawing bullets and holding hands until they were patched up and riding a morphine high. The wound on my neck throbbed painfully, but I had to wait my turn to get fixed up. I pressed a tentative hand to the bandage, slowly taking it off so the area could breathe. Dabbing it slowly with my hand, I felt the indention the bullet had taken out of my skin, and I resisted the urge to gag. I was never okay with my own wounds, despite being able to stick my hands into a man's chest cavity without blinking an eye.

I was being dragged down into sleep. Wearily I tossed all protocol, and fashioned a pillow out of my medic's pack on the bench. Extending my legs out, I laid back and found a comfortable position where the graze on my neck faced upward, away from the scratchiness of the cloth beneath my head. I rested both hands across my chest, mouth going slack as I drifted off slowly, the noises of the men and the tanks fading into the background.

I went out like a light. I had expected to be bothered with dreams of the ordeal I had just survived, but none came. Instead, I flipped between unconscious and consciousness, missing the tank brigade that rolled by but startling at the sound of someone dropping a bullet shell onto the concrete.

I heard men walking by, and the sound of a gasp. "Oh, shit," someone said in a muttered tone, and a ringing silence afterward. "Someone go get… Jesus, I don't know, someone find the lieutenant and…" their voices faded out as I drifted back into oblivion.

The next thing I knew, someone was touching my face gently, and my eyes popped open. I barely had anytime to process that the person above me was Lip before my body startled, scooting away quickly and a little scream exiting my throat. I caught my breath, and looked over at Lipton, whose face was drained of color, mouth open in shock. "Sorry," I garbled out, throat dry from my nap. I cleared it and tried again, staring at him wearily. "Hi."

Lip groaned and closed his eyes, drawing a hand over his face. "Jesus God, Eloise. Thank God." He opened his eyes and glared halfheartedly at me. "We thought you were dead. We thought they had put you on the bench for us to find."

"Dead?" I asked, yawning. "No, I've been working here all day, me and… wait, we?" I turned to look at my surroundings and noticed that Easy Company, or what was assembled of it, was gathered in a semicircle around my bench. They were all staring at me incredulously. I rose up, smiling happily at all of them. "Hey, guys," I rasped out before they all lunged.

Malarkey was the one to get to me first, picking me up and swinging me into hug. "You fucker!" he yelled out happily, and I laughed for the first time that day. Bill clasped an arm around my shoulders. "What, did you sleep through the invasion, too?" he joked and I laughed back, cut short by the pain flaring up in my neck again. "Ow, God," I hissed, clamping my hand down on it and squeezing tightly. Toye came up and removed my hand, whistling. "You sure got a chunk taken out of you," he remarked as I glared at the ground. "Tell me about it," I said, meeting the eyes of the curious men. "German machine gunners, point-blank shot, and they missed." Disbelief and impressed looks crowded the faces of the men as they all craned their necks to look at the wound.

"Sergeant Lipton," said a commanding voice, walking nearby. "I need you to…" The voice dropped off, and I looked up to see who it was. Standing a few feet away with his mouth open to speak, Lieutenant Speirs was staring at me with intense eyes, frozen. I shot him a weary smile. "Hello, sir."

Speirs melted from his pose with a quick shake of his head, and strode purposefully towards me. Then men around me scurried away like mice, and I frowned at their behavior. Speirs walked up to me, grabbing my face gently and turning my head to peer down at my neck. I swallowed, blushing at his close proximity.

"Sergeant Saylor," he said in that low voice of his, making my heart beat a little faster. "We certainly are glad to see you. What happened here?" He held my face between his hands as he forced me to look into his eyes. I felt like a rat staring into the gaze of a cobra. "I was shot, sir," I said quietly, trying not to stammer. "When I was trying to find the rally point, I was shot at close range, but they missed. I played dead, I was alone."

His eyes narrow at this, but he lets go of my face and stares down at me imploringly. "Cigarette?" he asks, holding out a pack, and I see the men stiffen off to the side. I take one, smiling my thanks as he lights it for me, and he turns back to Lip. "Lipton, you get a headcount of Easy Company, direct order from Lieutenant Compton," he orders calmly. "I'm taking her to Battalion headquarters to see Winters and Nixon." Before I have the opportunity to object, Speirs has a hand on my lower back and is guiding me swiftly into town. I glance back at the men who are staring openly, exchanging worried looks.

"I don't like the look of that wound," he states quietly to me. "You ought to get that taken care of before it gets infected."

"I know," I reply, glancing up at him. "But I couldn't, not with the other men who needed my help." I look down at my bloodstained hands and frown.

"I'm surprised you survived," his tone shifting into something, holding some sort of emotion. "I'm surprised to even see you standing. I thought you were dead."

"That seems to be the general consensus of the day," I snapped back, and a ghost of a smile flitted over his face. "I wish everybody would stop looking at me like I was dead."

"You're not helping your case by lying down on a bench, pale and motionless, 'playing dead'" he quipped, and I found myself grinning.

He guided me carefully, tenderly even, into a barn where the COs and XOs were all gathered, dashing around with orders and maps. I saw Lew, Winters, and Buck all in one corner, dwelling over several sheets of paper, and my heart lept up at the sight. Speirs and I walked over to them. Lew glanced up and did a double take, his face blanching. "Oh my God," he gasped, and the other two looked up as well. Lew dropped his pages and ran over to me, enveloping me in a hug. "Are you alright?" he asked, then snorted. "Stupid question, of course you're not, you're covered in blood." I frowned over at Speirs, who looked at me blankly. "Thanks for mentioning that," I snarked, and he smiled. Lew looked at him smiling carefully, before he turned back to me. "How'd you get here?"

"Well," I said, running a hand through my tangled and bloody hair. "I landed alone, I wandered seven miles towards town alone, I ran into some Germans, they shot me, and I walked into town, and I've been working at the field hospital ever since," I paused, letting my story sink in. "Until Lip found me, and Lieutenant Speirs walked me over here." I smiled at him as he stared back, emotionless. "One hell of a day, if I do say so myself."

"I'd say," Winters piped up, looking over at Lew and Buck. "Did you get to see Popeye?"

"I treated him, sir. I wasn't about to allow any other medic near my men," I said with a smile, and Winters eyes glinted approvingly.

"Well, it's good to have you with us again, sergeant," he said, nodding at Speirs appreciatively. "Thank you for bringing her over here, would you mind showing her where the men are stationed?"

"Not at all," replies Speirs, and before I know what's happening, he's wheeling me right back out of the barn before I can say farewell to the lieutenants. "Hey!" I muttered exasperatedly, but he just chuckles.

"How was your invasion?" I ask casually, as if I'm inquiring about his lunch. He shrugs, eyes distant. "It was fine. I saw some action," he says carefully, and I nod, letting it drop.

We near the little gathering of Easy Company, and Speirs drops his arm. "I'll be seeing you, sergeant," he says, looking down at me and putting a careful hand on my neck. I just stare back, wondering what he'll do next. After a moment, he lets go and with a measured look at me, walks swiftly away. I just shake my head and return to the men.

Walking with my face turned to the ground, someone stops in front of me and I look up, startled. It's Joe, and all breath leaves my body. He looks like he's struggling with a plethora of feelings at once - fear, anger, jealousy, relief, happiness - as he looks over my shoulder at the retreating form of Speirs, and back to my face. We stand so close to each other, yet both unable to reach out and simply hold each other's hand. I take a deep breath as he looks over my form.

"Please tell me you're okay," he rasps out, eyes burning into mine. I nod slowly. "I got shot, but I'm okay," I whisper back, and his eyes flit to the bullet wound in my neck.

"Jesus Christ," he says, and closes his eyes. "I was so worried. I kept seeing you hurt, kept imagining you lying in a ditch somewhere in pain, dead…"

"Hey," I say firmly, reaching up and touching his jaw lightly, before yanking my hand back to my side. "I'm not any of those things. I'm right here, and I'm fine." I smile, relieved. "I'm here with you." He opens his eyes and smiles back, nodding towards the men. "Let's go, I want to sit down and catch up."

I follow him back to Easy, who are all grinning at me stupidly, and I do the same. Plopping down on the ground and dipping my handkerchief into my canteen, I begin to clean the blood off my face. "So, tell me about Brecourt," I begin, and their stories whirl me away into the night.

* * *

Later, I was squished between Bill and Lip as Malarkey tried to cook _something_ over a fire inside a covered truck using an empty magazine holder. "God, whatever that is, it smells like a dead skunk," I remarked, waving away the fumes. Malarkey shot me a look as Joe scoffed.

"Jesus, let me out of here," he said, forfeiting the fight with a wink my way and hopping out of the back of the truck. I laughed as Bill pulled down the flap and we returned to cooking.

"How we doing, Malark?" Bill asked as Malarkey tasted his spoonful, and nodded to himself. "We're doing good," he reaffirmed, and Buck peered over skeptically. "What the hell do you know about cooking? You're Irish."

"Sir, if you have a reservation someplace else, I'd be happy to go with," Malarkey quipped back seriously, and I giggled as he began to tip the stew, or whatever it was, onto our plates. "Thanks, Don," I said, picking around the contents. "What exactly is in this, again?"

"Don't ask, sweetheart," Lip quipped and Buck snorted into his stew. I took a careful taste. "Not bad," I looked up a Don with a smile. "But next time, honey, I'm cooking."

The boys all whistled and Bill looked at me appreciatively. "She's pretty, she cooks, and she kills Germans," he commented, the men smirking. "You're a girl after my own heart."

"I certainly try," I said sarcastically, but the chatter died down as Winters stuck his head under our flap.

"Evening," he says, looking around in disgust. "Something die in here?" The men chuckled. "Yeah, Malarkey's ass," Toye mumbled, and Winters rolled his eyes.

"Uh, any word on Lieutenant Meehan yet, sir?" Buck asked. "No, not yet," Winters shook his head and looked down. "Don't that make you our commanding officer, sir?" said Bill cautiously. "Yeah, it does," Winters replied softly, and the two men exchanged small smiles and nods. I stopped eating to watch the exchange. Earlier the men had filled me in on Bill's entrance into the Easy Company's Dead Brother Club, and his exploits with the Germans on the railroad. I hated internal conflict, and I hoped that it would be resolved right now.

Toye offered Winters a pull from his wine, but Bill stepped in. "Joe, the lieutenant here don't drink," he stated firmly, and I smiled a bit. But to all of our surprise, Winters reached out and took the bottle. "It's been a day of firsts, don't you think, Guarnere?" he asked solemnly, and swigged. We all giggled as he struggled to gulp it down. "Yes, sir," Bill replied, and took a swig himself before passing it to me.

"Sergeant Saylor, how's the neck?" Winters asked, and I smiled. "It's gonna be okay, sir. I stitched it up real good," I replied, cradling the wine like a baby. Winters nodded, and paused before ducking out from behind the flap. "Oh, and sergeant?" he said, addressing Bill, who looked over with surprise. "I'm not a Quaker," he said pointedly, and escaped from our little cookhouse. There was a beat of silence before everyone burst out into laughter. "I guess he's a Mennonite," Bill said, and I shook my head. "Don't judge a book by it's cover, Gonorrhea," I said sweetly, earning a shove from Bill.

Lip looked over at the wine. "You gonna rock that bottle like a kid all night or are you gonna pass it?" I feigned a look of shock, and clutched it closer. "Lip, alcohol _is_ my child," I said, and the men laughed as I took several gulps before passing it around again.

"So what was that with Speirs earlier?" Toye asks me, and I shrug. "Oh, don't give me that, you know what we mean," Bill snarks and I raise my hands up.

"I have absolutely no idea, y'all. He just acts that way around me, I don't encourage it," I say, and the men share glances.

"Yeah, sure, but I know one thing, if that isn't the look of a man on the chase, then I don't know what is," Toye says, and Buck looks at me excitedly.

"Wait, is it Speirs?" he asks me, and I groan. I had forgotten about his mission to dig into my love life, and give him a dry look. "Oh, I am not about to do this tonight, let alone again, let alone with _you_," I point my finger sassily at Buck, but he just grins.

"I'm so close," he says. "I can smell it."

"Look, if you're going to discuss my love life, then I'm gone," I said, getting up and edging out of the flap. "I invaded Europe today, I deserve a good rest before we move out."

"Oh, come on!" I hear Bill moan, but Malarkey sniggers. I whip my head in the flap, glaring at Don with terrifying eyes. "Don, you don't wanna know what I'll do to you," I let the threat hang, and he looks back at me warily as I slowly withdraw from the light with narrowed eyes.

I walk away laughing, glancing up into the night sky turned orange from the fires burning below. A day of firsts, indeed.

* * *

**Voila!**


	10. Chapter 10

**PSA: Y'all's enthusiasm makes me squeal with joy. Thanks for the lovely reviews!**

**Leggo:**

* * *

"Oh, Lordy," I sighed, holding my hands above my head and stretching my back, hearing the cricks pop loudly. Next to me, George made a face and shivered. "Ew, Wheezy, that's like nails on a chalkboard," he said, taking a drag of his early morning cigarette. I ignored him and continued to roll my shoulders, wincing when a muscle in my neck twinged near my wound. I had made the mistake of sleeping on it the wrong wasy, and now half of my neck and face were swollen uncomfortably.

I rubbed it gently. "Fucking Germans and their stupid lugers," I whined to myself, but thankful for their poor aim. Joe nodded from beside me, basking in the sun. "You can say that again," he muttered, eyes closed.

A group of soldiers walked up to our perch on the Great War monument, and I shaded my eyes as I inspected them and hit George in the chest excitedly. "Hey fellas, and lady," Tab said, walking up to us with Shifty and Blithe trailing. George lept up and shook his hand happily. "Well look who decided to show, Floyd," he said sarcastically, but we were all pleased to see them. I slapped Floyd on the shoulder playfully, but abandoned all hope of socialization when I saw Gene loitering in the back. A shit-eating grin on my face, I jogged over to where he stood and grabbed him from behind in a huge hug. "_Bonjour, monsieur,_" I cried out happily, and he turned around and enveloped me in his arms, squeezing tight.

"Awwww," I heard Hoobler drawl out sappily, and the other men quickly joined in. "Oh, shut your mouths!" I hollered back at them, and they broke out into chuckles. Gene looked at me critically. "You just couldn't stay out of trouble, could you?" he said, motioning to my bandage. I just rolled my eyes as he frowned and we walked towards the men. "Please tell me you've had that looked at?"

"Nope," I quipped, shooting him a grin. "I wanted to keep it nice and ripe for ya." Joe snorted and I plopped down next to him, ripping the bandage off as Gene pulled out his medical kit. "Truth is, there were no spare medics to look at me, and there wasn't a mirror around, so I couldn't properly stitch myself up," I said, wincing as he rubbed a swab over the wound.

"Jesus, _cherie_, this is some seriously gross shit," Gene mumbled to himself, and Luz nudged him.

"You should've seen her, Doc. This idiot," he said, kicking me lightly. "This idiot thought it would be a good idea to lie outside of the hospital, pale as a sheet, and take a nap with her arms all splayed out like this." He mimed the pose of a corpse, tongue lolling, and I rolled my eyes. "And we walk up, take one look at her, and everyone loses their shit. Even Bill over there," he nods, and Bill scowls at him. "And then when Lip goes to look at her, she pops up and scares the hell out of everybody."

"Sort of like Jesus," Gordon drawled in our mutual twang. "Rising from the dead an' all."

I shrug my shoulders, grinning. "Guess I'm just blessed, y'all." The boys laughed, and Gene slapped a bandage over my neck. "Now, keep that dry and quit touching it," he scolded, pinching my cheek and ruffling my hair lightly. "Yes ma'am," I replied cheekily, earning a light glare as he strode away.

"First platoon!" I hear Harry yell from across the courtyard, and I nod at Gene when he turned back to look at me. "I'll roll with them today," I hollered, and he waved back. I caught up with George and Frank as we walked quickly across the road to stand in front of Harry, who was looking as roughed up as we were. "Listen up, it'll be dark soon, I want light and noise discipline from here on," he said. "No talking, no smoking, and no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you Luz!"

"Sir, what if the man in front of me is Sergeant Saylor?" he called out, and I shot him a look as the men around us chuckled. "Just try and see what happens, George," I replied, smiling evilly as he took a step away, arms raised in defeat.

"So where we headed to lieutenant, huh?" someone asked, and Harry looked over darkly. "We're taking Carentan." Tab looked at him sceptically. "That sounds like fun," he replied, loud enough for the other men to hear him.

"It's the only place where armored from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head in," Harry muttered, swinging a musette bag around his shoulders. "Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."

George scoffed, and I knew what was about to come out of his mouth. "Remember boooys, give me three daaays and three niiiights of hard fightin', and you will be ruhlieved!" George did his best impression of General Taylor, and I laughed quietly to myself.

"Lieutenant, I'll take point," Hoobler said, walking to the front, and Harry nodded. "Blithe, glad you could join us," he said to Albert, who looked a little shell-shocked. My eyes narrowed slightly as I studied his form, and made a mental note to keep watch over him to make sure he was alright.

"First platoon, fall in behind Fox Company, you people from second and third platoon, follow us. Let's shake a leg." Harry put on his helmet and we fell out quickly. I looked around at the destruction of the French town curiously, the idea that I was invading a foreign country becoming more real by the second.

"Another thing to remember, boys," Luz continued in his General Taylor voice. "Flies spread disease… so keep yours closed!" Despite myself, I laughed out loud, earning a smile from George.

* * *

The fires burned eerily close to the lake we were walking by, the water seeming to reflect the flames from within. I caught myself peering over into the depths to look at the wreckage of the planes, but almost vomited in disgust as I saw half of an arm bobbing gently in the ripples of the water. I made a low moan and pressed a hand to my mouth as I kept walking.

Dead Germans lay everywhere. For some reason, I just couldn't adopt the nickname of 'Krauts'. Something about it seemed dehumanizing, and that didn't sit well with me. They were the enemy, they were the bad guys, but they were still human beings. I tried not to look at them as I walked by.

We passed by two burning trucks, enveloping us in a cloud of noxious smoke. "Don't wake Jerry," a man said, and in front of me Frank paused next to a dead German. Rigor mortis or something more vile had frozen him in death with his arms upraised, clawing for escape from whatever had killed him. Frank stopped momentarily to hastily rip the dead man's wristwatch from his arm, and added it to his growing collection with a grin. I frowned but said nothing. I just couldn't take souvenirs from the dead like that.

"Damn," Hoobler whispered from the front. "What?" Harry snapped as he made his way towards him. "We lost F Company, sir," Hoob replied dejectedly. "Again!?" Harry snapped, striding forward. "Perconte, go back and pass the word to hold up. Hoobler, take Saylor, go find F Company," Harry commanded, and I walked forward. "Yes, sir," we replied, and set off into the inferno before us.

Hoob and I walked through a thick bunch of trees, avoiding the brambles and vines below our feet. "Shit," he hissed, slapping his neck at another bug. "Damn mosquitoes." I laughed lightly. "Hoob, are you really complaining about mosquitoes? This is nothing," I waved my arms to the surrounding woods. "Down where I'm from, in the deep woods, those bloodsuckers are so big they'll leave a welt on ya the size of a quarter. And they'll swarm you, too." I reflected momentarily on my past summers as Hoob turned a frustrated eye on me.

"Yeah?" he grumbled. "Well, I hate them now, and I'll hate them again, no matter where I am." I just grinned and shook my head. Weakling.

Hoobler suddenly held his hand up to halt, and I crouched low to the ground, scanning the woods carefully. "What is it?" I whispered, but he shushed me. A sudden movement by a copse of trees caught my eye, and as soon as I had my rifle on my shoulder the shadow uttered a lazy 'flash'. I lowered it, peeved.

"Thunder," Hoob replied, and a lackadaisical private stepped out from his cover. "I could hear y'all all the way across the field," he said slowly, eyes staring wildly at us. "You F Company?" Hoob whispered, and the man blinked at us. "That's right," he said, stepping forward a bit. "Where y'all been?"

"Eloise," Hoob said, glancing back at me. "Go back to lieutenant, tell him we found F Company, and we'll figure out where these yokels are headed." I nodded and winked, the 'Who you calling a yokel?' of the F Company man drifting back towards me. I snorted and continued to pick back the path that we had taken.

In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously. Walking through the woods at night with Hoobler was fine, but something about being by myself at night sent me into a mild panic. I tried to control my breathing as I looked around carefully, attempting to discern Hoobler and my's tracks from the other trampling of men from earlier that day. Turning around a tree, I froze as I saw the glint of a helmet resting at the base, a German soldier staring right at me. After a moment of terror, I realized that the man made no movement towards me, and I carefully flicked the safety off of my rifle and pointed it at him as I approached warily. If he was sleeping, I did not want to be the one to wake him up.

"He's dead, sergeant," said a voice, and Winters stepped out from the bushes. "Did you find Fox Company?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, lowering my gun and turning to face him, frowning. "I thought he had me, for a second."

Lew stepped out from behind Winters' shadow and patted me on the back, walking towards the corpse. "Fallschirmjager," he stated. "Paratrooper?" Winters said in disbelief. "Division thinks there's a regiment of them holding Carentan," he said over his shoulder. "Well, there's one less to worry about," Winters said and Lew scoffed his agreement. A little glimpse of white caught my eye, and I gently touched the lapel of the dead man's jacket, where a tiny flower had been pushed through a buttonhole.

"That's Edelweiss, that only grows on the Alps above the treeline," Lew said to me. "Means he climbed up there to get it. It's supposed to be the mark of a true soldier." I nodded to myself, and gently removed it from the man's jacket. Twirling it gently in my fingers, I looked up and smiled at the two men. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" I asked, and we walked back towards Easy. When I was sure no one was paying attention, I slipped the little flower into my pocket, careful not to crush it's delicate petals.

* * *

_I am not a fan of this_, I thought to myself, scowling angrily. It was too damn quiet up ahead. The company rested together in columns on the bottom slope of the road before the hill that led into Carentan, and I was tapping my fingers impatiently against the wood grain of my rifle. The squeaking of a swaying sign and the distant barkings of a startled dog were the only sounds that I could hear on the blustering wind, and my heart started to beat faster. Silence where there should be noise was always disconcerting.

I watched as Winters poked his head over the rise, and turned to face Harry. Looking at his wristwatch, Winters nodded a go-ahead to Harry, who quickly motioned for us run up the road. The men deployed around me, and I crouched up to follow when a hand reached out and grabbed the back of my shirt. I turned around angrily to see Buck, determination in his eyes and shaking his head furiously. "Let me go!" I hissed, and he narrowed his eyes. "Wait until they need you!" he whispered back, and I sighed and crawled up the embankment with Gene, carefully listening for the tale-tell cries.

The men were hardly down the road when the Germans opened up a barrage of fire upon them from the windows of the cafe that faced the street. Men dropped like flies in front of me, and a startled Winters looked in disbelief as all of the men scrambled to the sides of the road and took cover in the ditches.

I could see George and Skip sequestered on the opposite side of a building as the Germans fired at them from the front, looking around at the ensuing chaos for the backup that had ditched them in the line of fire. Anger swelled up within me as I turned around and glared at the men in the ditches, and Gene swore under his breath.

Winters suddenly dashed forward, putting himself in direct line of fire to get the men out of the ditches, and I reached my boiling point. "Fuck this shit," I snarled, and Gene looked up in surprise as I ran towards the nearest man in the ditch. I grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him up with all the strength I had, not even caring who the man was or about rank; Dick Winters was not about to be shot on my watch because these men were too cowardly to go forward. "Get the fuck up and move!" I screamed at the line of men behind them, and with terror filled faces, they rose and followed me as I shoved them forward. I waved them along as I nodded to Winters, and then ran headfirst into town.

When you run into machine gun fire, you expect to start reflecting on your life and your family. I did none of these things. Honestly, I was still internally bitching about the fact that the men had been so cowardly and that Winters had taken unnecessary risks to get them out of the damn ditches. I saw Lip move sideways with a line of men, and I cut left as I followed them into the side of town.

The gunfire was deafening. I kept my eyes peeled as I ran towards them, assessing every man on the ground as I passed them. _Dead. Dying. Walking wounded._ I slammed into the side of the wall next to Lip as he fired around the corner, trying to stop the pressure from the gunners in the top windows diagonal from our hideout. "Sir, they got the two windows -" a soldier shouted out, until he was cut off by a bullet to the head, and fell in the street. I hauled him towards me, blood gushing out of his head and onto my shoulder. I didn't need a second look to tell that he was already gone. I dropped his body and hovered near my men, looking them all square in the eyes and assessing the damage done. "Y'all good?" I hollered, and they all nodded back.

A grenade exploded nearby, knocking out the German resistance that had been pinning us against the wall. I dashed with the men, joining Joe and Tipper as they ran towards Harry. Pausing at the wall, I heard Harry's order that they start clearing out the buildings, and decided to go with them in order to scope out any wounded man who might be alone. Suddenly, explosions of artillery fire made us all turn to look as the Germans had managed to zero in on the majority of men clustered in the middle of town. "Let's go!" Joe shouted, and I nodded, slinging my rifle off of my shoulder and clicking the safety off as I ran. I was all in favor of following the Geneva Conventions of medical neutrality, but not if it meant I was going to get shot.

Joe, Tipper, and I ran up the side of the street as a bazooka took out a chunk of building in front of us. As we ran forward in the smoke, a confused German soldier wandered out of the gaping hole. Joe whipped out his new pistol and shot him at point-blank range, but I felt the soldier's eyes on me when he fell. I let out a shuddering breath, and we continued to try to get out of the line of fire.

Gene was in the middle of the street, wrapping the head wound of a man who had been knocked unconscious. I stopped to help him, but he waved me on. "We're running low on supplies!" he screamed at me, and I nodded. I didn't get very far before artillery blasted around men, and I let out a fiendish yelp as I was thrown to the ground. I gasped for breath as the close by calls from a man in pain reached my ears, and I scrambled up to find that a soldier had been hit directly, his now amputated leg lying a few feet away from him. Dropping my rifle, I hurried on my hands and knees over to him, and grabbed his arms and touched his face lightly, calming him down. "You're okay, you're fine, shhh," I reassured him, as I searched for anything that could be used as a tourniquet.

Bull appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the man and hoisting him up. "Aid station!" I yelled, pointing in the direction of the appointed aid area. He nodded tersely, and ran quickly as the man groaned in pain over his shoulder.

I caught up with Joe and Tipper as they entered a pharmacy, and I dashed inside looking for spare medical supplies while they searched up high. Throwing open cabinets, I found a stash of bandages and morphine syringes. I hastily scooped all of my loot into my bag, looking up as Tipper descended from the stairs above. As I stood up, he looked out past the huge glass-front window with wide eyes, and I turned to see what he was looking at. We both heard the whistle of incoming artillery too late.

The explosion threw me backward into the glass cabinets, shattering them effectively. I tried to hold my hands in front of my face as fire blasted near me, and I fell between the wooden shelves, screaming as they crashed down on top of my body. Something sharp punctured my side, and I yelled out in pain. Tipper made no noise, but then again, I couldn't hear anything. My ears rang from the impact.

There was the briefest moment of calm before the panic settled in. I was trapped beneath the cabinet, and as I tried to pull myself out from underneath it, the shattered glass on the floor and the pain in my side stopped me from making any movements.

"Tipper!" I could hear Joe yelling in the background, and I opened my eyes. I had to get out of here. "Help!" I whimpered out, doing nothing in my favor. "Help!" I yelled a little louder, but after a moment, no one seemed to hear me or even be coming for me. Frustration and anger at this day boiled over, and before I knew what I was doing, I was howling and screeching like a banshee, kicking my legs and pounding at the cabinet. "WILL SOMEBODY COME GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF OF ME?!" I screamed, less than a question than a demand.

"Oh, shit," I heard someone mutter slowly, and then a stampede of boots vibrated across the floor. "Eloise!?" Joe's panicked voice echoed out, and I waved my exposed arm helplessly. "Down under here!" I yelled, strength sapping out of me.

"Toye, help me get this up," Joe yelled, and the pressure began to lift off of my back. The two men grunted as I began to gasp for the clean air filtering through the smoke. Joe crouched down, hands hovering above me. "Holy shit, Eloise," he said, as I gingerly raised myself up on shaking arms. "What, is it that bad?" I asked, dreading the answer as I reached up to hold the shelves for support. I turned to meet his eyes as he gaped at my body, Toye slowly walking forward with his hands extended towards me.

The pain throbbed again in my torso, and as I looked down, I blanched. There was a five-inch shard of glass sticking between my ribs on my left side, blood slowly oozing from the wound. I could feel a cut above my eyebrow, and glass was embedded in my right forearm. "Okay," I whispered, not taking my eyes off the glass. "Okay, um… okay." I fought down the panic, and looked back at the two men. "I'm going to go to the aid station now," I said, taking a tentative step forward, and making it with little to no pain. Joe reached a hand out and gently steadied me.

"Let me carry you," he said, but I just shook my head. "No, the glass will only go in deeper that way," I responded, my own voice sounding so distant. I looked at Toye. "Was Tipper hit?"

"Yeah, he's, uh, he's in really bad shape…" Toye said, dwindling off, clearly distraught. His voice only did more to steel my resolve to go help. "I've gotta go lend a hand, but first I gotta take care of this," I motioned to my torso. "Joe, follow me there, just in case I collapse."

I made it out of the smoking building, ignorant to the shocked faces of the men I walked past. Time seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up, and I grabbed Joe's hand every now and then to steady myself as I picked around the rubble.

Walking into the aid station, I saw Gene pulling a little bullet from Winter's leg as Winters looked up at me in disbelief. "Hi, sir," I mumbled out woozily, the blood loss finally taking it's hit at my brain. I swayed a bit, and Joe leaped forward to prevent me from falling flat on my face. Gene rushed up to me and sat me on top of the table next to Winters.

"What the hell happened to her?" he demanded angrily at Joe, his accent coming out in full. "She was in the same building Tipper was hit, under a pile of cabinets. No one knew she was in there until she started screaming," he said, shaken. I looked up at him sadly. "Joe, go on, you don't have to stay and watch this," I grimaced, as Gene began to cut my BDUs apart, ripping open the undershirt that blocked his access to bare skin. He shook his head stubbornly. "I want to help," he told Gene, avoiding my eyes. Gene nodded after a moment and began to bark commands.

"Fine, go get two washcloths, one dry and one wet. Eloise, I want you to hold this bandaged to your forearm, but don't press down because of the glass. Sir," he said, addressing Winters. "Keep her awake."

I rolled my eyes up to Winters, who looked flustered. "Did we secure Carentan, sir?" I asked, my voice shaking from the pain. "Yes, we did, sergeant. The Krauts have fled the area for now," he replied, looking me in the eyes to avoid staring at my wounds. "Oh, that's good to hear. I'm sorry I can't help with the wounded men. I'm a pretty shitty field nurse," I mumbled sleepily, getting dizzy from the pain. But beyond my haze, I heard Winters laugh, and I smiled.

Joe returned with the washcloths and a basin. Gene took the dry one, and carefully wrapped it around the jagged piece of glass, placing his other hand flat on my ribs for balance. "On the count of three, _cherie,_" he said steadily, and I nodded, gripping the edge of the table. "One… two… three!" He ripped the piece of glass out of my side cleanly, a little _schwick_ accompanying it. I gasped in pain, and clenched my teeth together. "Son of a bitch," I growled lowly, pressing a hand to my side to stop the bleeding until Gene could grab a bandage.

"Alright, here we are," he replied calmly, and I raised myself up so he could wrap the gauze around my torso. "Now, let's see to that forehead."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I was all patched up and holding my own bottle of plasma, stubbornly refusing to be treated as an invalid. Joe had tried to stick around, but I ordered him out to go help the other men in clearing out the town, much to his dismay. I was wrapping up Winters wound and talking to him lowly when the doors slammed open and the sound of boots stormed in. I didn't look up, still so woozy from the blood loss, and continued to wrap his leg tightly when the boots stopped next to me.

"Here to brief you on our status, sir," said the voice of Lieutenant Speirs, and I looked off to the side towards him. He was covered in dust, and I did a customary once-over to check for casualties. He looked at me critically. "Oh, it's you," he said, not unkindly. I finished Winters, and stood up slowly, grimacing at my stiff limbs. "Yeah, it's me," I said, exhausted and dropping all pretenses of formality. Speirs' jaw clenched as he looked me up and down with fiery eyes. "What in the world happened to you?" he growled out, and I glanced down to take stock.

My half ripped undershirt was speckled with blood, a part of my torso exposed where the bandage was wrapped around my ribs. My forearm had been wrapped up neatly, and I knew I had one black eye from hitting the cabinets gracelessly with my face, as well as the angry red cut above my eyebrow that Gene pronounced would scar but would also close up on its own. I held my plasma bottled a little higher as I shrugged, looking up at him with a crooked smile. "Bazooka explosion, glass-front shop," I said slowly, reaching around to grab the shard of glass that I was keeping as a keepsake. I turned and held it out from him to see, the edges stained red with my blood. "That went into my side, Gene yanked it out. The rest is just me being thrown into shit." I put the glass down on the table as he looked at me, clearly displeased.

"Who's idea was it for you to run into town?" he demanded, murder shining through his eyes. "That would have been my idea, sir," I said calmly, pointing at myself and swaying slightly before climbing up on the table. I kicked my heels back and forth like a kid.

"I told her to stay back, she didn't listen," Winters admonished, and I ducked my head. "But….she saved lives today, and helped. You did good, sergeant," he said, patting me gently on the shoulder. "Just try not to step in front of a bazooka next time." He walked out of the aid station, and I looked pointedly at Speirs.

"Aren't you going to follow him?" I asked, and Speirs crossed his arms, making no movement. "I'm more interested in you," he replied, voice still dark. I ignored the warning signs. "Why?" I asked, leaning back and hooking the plasma to the stand, too exhausted to keep my eyes open. "Because I don't like the idea of you dying on a table while Roe rips glass out of your body," he growled, and I peeked up at him. He had moved to my side and was staring down at me with that emotionless gaze of his. I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't dying, I was bleeding out. There's a difference," I replied, poking the sleeping dog.

I expected him to snap, but instead, a corner of his mouth turned up into...a smile? I watched him carefully. "Do you exist only to annoy the hell out of me?" he asked, tone lighter than it had been. I smiled and scoffed, looking up at him. "The purpose of my existence has yet to be revealed to me, sir. I'll let you know when it happens." Speirs tossed his head, but looked down at me carefully. "Next battle, you hold back from jumping in right away. Stay with the medics." I opened my mouth to argue, but the fire came back into his eyes. "That's an order, sergeant," he finished, tone deadly. I set my mouth into a line and refused to meet his eyes. "Yes, sir," I spat bitterly, and he nodded and walked out the door.

* * *

A little while later, I wandered out into the sunshine of the day, spying Malarkey, Skip, and Blithe sitting down on some steps. Hobbling over to them, I called out. "Hey, y'all, mind if I take a seat here?"

"Hey look, it's the walking dead," Skip joked, and I shot him a glare. "Really, Skip?" I asked as I settled down and Malarkey chuckled. "It's good to see you up and at 'em, we thought Toye was joking when he said you were blasted up and then walked right out," Malarkey said, breaking a cracker in half. "'Like a zombie'." I rolled my eyes.

"Feel like a dead person," I mumbled, basking in the sun. I was starving, and grabbed a cracker out of Malarkey's hands.

Skip emptied a tube into his mouth. "Ugh, God," he mumbled, mouth full of goo. "This Kraut cheese tastes like...it stinks!" he finished, laughing to himself and snatching a cracker from Gordon's hand.

"Don't seem like Jerry's got too much fight in him left," Alton mumbled, and Malarkey snorted. "Hey Moore, don't get hit in the face when Jerry throws in the sponge," he said, but Alton just shook his head. "You mark my words, Mal, Berlin by Christmas."

A shadow loomed over us, and we all looked up. "Enjoy it while it lasts," Speirs said, looking off into the distance. "We're moving out soon."

"Out of town, lieutenant? Already?" Moore asked, exasperated. Speirs just looked at him, and I snorted. "That's right," he responded sassily, and walked through our group. But Moore wouldn't let it go. "Don't they know we're just getting settled here?" he asked maddeningly, and Speirs turned to look at him, clearly displeased. I lolled my head back and eyed him. "Moore, shut it," I ordered lazily, and looked up at Speirs, still a bit perturbed from him ordering me around earlier. Speirs just stared back, making the men behind me fidget uncomfortably. Slowly, he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a pack. "Cigarette?" he asked me, and I nodded silently. I took it from his fingers, freezing a bit when they brushed against mine, and I hated myself for blushing so visibly. He leaned down to light it for me, staring intently. "That's a nice blush you have their, sergeant. Good to know you still have some blood in your body." Rising above my incredulous face, he turned his steely gaze on Moore once again before walking off.

"Nice, Groucho," Skip threw at Moore, and I turned on my good side and looked back at them. "Real smart," he continued. "You know you're taking your life in your own hands, isn't that right?"

"I told you, I didn't actually see it," Malarkey commented. I sat up and watched them in earnest.

"What, Speirs shooting those prisoners or the sergeant in his own platoon?" Gordon asked, and I looked at them skeptically.

"Excuse me, what?" I said, paying attention. Gordon now had his audience and he recounted the tale. "Supposedly the guy was drunk and refused to go on patrol," he said. "Who knows if it's true."

"Well, I know a guy, who said an eyewitness told him that Speirs hosed those prisoners," Skip replied, and I held up a hand.

"Y'all mind filling me in on what the hell you're talking about?" I snapped, and Skip nodded at me.

"On D-Day, Speirs comes across this group of Kraut prisoners, digging a hole or some such, under guard and all. He breaks out a pack of smokes, passes them out, even gives 'em a light. Then all of a sudden, he swings around his Thompson, and _brp-brpp-brp-brp-brp_," Skip imitates the machine gun firing, and my stomach sinks a little bit. "He hoses them."

"I mean goddamn, he gives them smokes first?" Skip continues, taking a drag from his cigarette. "You see, that's why I don't believe he really did it."

"Oh you don't believe he did it?" Malarkey questions, but Gordon speaks up.

"See, I heard it differently," he said, but Alton jumps in. "Oh no, it was him alright, but it was more than eight guys, more like twenty."

"Hell of a shot," pipes up Skip, as Alton leans back. "All except one guy, who he left alone."

"Well, all I know from what I heard, he took that last 105 on D-Day practically by himself," Gordon says, nodding. "Running through MG fire like a maniac."

"Now that I did see," says Don.

I pause for a moment, mouth agape. "Why haven't I heard about this before?" I said, looking at all of them.

"Well, nobody really likes to talk about it, because he just sort of… pops out of nowhere, like that," he motions to where Speirs stood moments before.

I shake my head. "I've never seen that side of him," I say knowingly, and Skip snorts. "What?"

"Well, to be honest, you're the only person we've seen him be vaguely not terrible to," he says and Don nods. I shrug my shoulders. "Beats me why he treats me differently, if anything I get on his nerves more than anyone else here," I say, laying down again, enjoying my cigarette.

"You should get a medal for that," Don jokes, and the men laugh. He motions across the sky in an arc. "I can see it now. The very rare, very honorable Order of the 'Speirs Likes Me' Award."

I laugh in spite of my misgivings. The image of those dead German prisoners so near to the rally point on D-Day keeps flashing up in my head, and though I don't want to jump to conclusions, I can't help the doubt that rises within me. Was that Speirs' handiwork? Was he really so heartless as the men said? I smoked my cigarette thoughtfully, enjoying the temporary peace.

* * *

**The next chapter will be up ASAP! Stay beautiful, my friends. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Here's the last part of Carentan!**

* * *

We trampled across a peaceful plain of grass, the clouds gathering in the sky and the wind blowing gently, twirling the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of my braid and underneath my helmet. Without my rifle, I had one less thing to hold, and swung my arms happily, catching bits and pieces of the tall grass that we walked by. Gene had given me three aspirin for the pain, and though my muscles still ached from being thrown back by the explosion blast, I was feeling the best I had in days.

"Hey, Princess, try not to look so carefree, we're in a war zone," George called out sarcastically as the thunder began to rumble overhead. I threw my middle finger up but smiled over my shoulder, catching his grin as well.

"Luz, how far we going?" Frank asked, looking around worriedly, and I paused so that I could fall into step with them. "Oh Jesus Christ, Frank, I don't know," George said tiredly as the first raindrops began to fall. "Until they tell us to stop."

"High ground, there's high ground up ahead," Hoobler said, shooting George and I a look, and I snickered.

Frank scoffed, clearly not pleased with the answer. "Okay, genius. Answer me this, then. How come Easy Company is the only company who's either at the front of an advance, or, like now, exposed at the far edge of the line?" I shrugged, grabbing my raincoat out of my pack, and shaking it out. "Damn, these things sure are ugly," I remarked to myself, holding it up. I couldn't even see where the arm holes were.

"To keep you on your toes," Hoob replied to Frank. I had finally wrestled the thing over my head, but it stank of a rubber factory and I wrinkled my nose in dismay.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying, we're never in the middle. And we're the fifth of nine companies in this regiment. Able to Item. Think of it," Frank ended his tirade, looking at me in exasperation. I agreed with him, but there wasn't any use in complaining about what you couldn't change.

"You see there -" Hoob started, but never finished as machine gun fire suddenly forced us all to the ground.

"Contact right! Get in the hedgerow!" I heard Harry scream, and I began to crawl with the other men over to the line of trees. Right in front of me, a man was hit in the shoulder and he fell to the ground. I quickly crouched up and ran low, grabbing him and dragging him over to the treeline. "I got you, you're fine," I cooed to him as the boys set up a line of defense against the attack in front of us. I found a low spot behind Don and helped the man to a sitting position. Ripping his jacket off of the right side of his body, I worked quickly as he watched me with wide eyes. Pouring sulfa powder on the wound, I wrapped him up as fast as I could, and smacked him lightly on the helmet. "You good to go?" I yelled over the artillery, and he nodded. "Yeah, but I lost my company," he replied, looking around. "What company?" I asked as he grabbed his gun. "Dog!" he said, and dashed out back into the fray.

So Easy wasn't alone in the fight, I mused to myself while hitting the deck and lying low. That was comforting, at least. Despite all of Frank's complaining, Easy always did have the other companies behind them when it came to sticky situations like these.

I hesitated, glancing around and watching for someone who would need a medic, but miraculously, no call came. I hustled down the line and found George, who was yelling reports into his radio.

"Any jeep calls for casualties?" I yelled, and George shakes his head 'no'. "Doc is looking for you, he's down the line by Winters." I nod and scurry past the boys setting up their guns and splashing through the quickly-forming mud. I grimaced. I hated mud.

I caught up with Gene near the edge of the hedgerow, where the fighting wasn't as fast paced. "We gotta head back to Battalion to pick up the new shipments," he yelled over the incoming fire. "And step away from this?" I motioned at the boys incredulously. "I don't know, I'm just following orders," he replied. I shrugged it off, and we ran hastily away from the battlefield.

* * *

I huddled down with Joe in our hastily-dug foxhole, while the wind and rained howled overhead, only slightly louder than the howling of our half-drunk German friends from across the way. I shook my head, and smiled when he looked at me. "What?" he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I snuggled into it. "They sound like my gross Uncle Carl," I remarked, giggling quietly while Joe pressed a kiss to my cheek. "He always gets drunk at Christmas and tries to sing these German carols that he learned from the Great War."

"Which ones?" he asks, interested. I dwell on it a moment. "_Stille Nacht_," I pronounced in my horrible German. "Oh, that one's my favorite," Joe replied, his eyes lighting up. "Teach me the words," I prompted, but he shook his head. "Nah, I'm a terrible singer." I inched a little closer, whispering into his ear. "Then teach me the words, and I'll sing," I said breathily, grinning at the way his arm tightened around me. "Are you trying to seduce me in a foxhole, Sergeant Saylor?" he growled, and my body flushed with my telltale blush. "Not at all, Corporal Liebgott," I said innocently, and he laughed, turning and kissing me deeply.

I grabbed his jaw and forced him to lengthen the kiss, greedy for more. It was the first time we had had the opportunity to be alone since D-Day, and his kiss was sending me into a spiral of frenzy. Joe chuckled into my lips, and I drew back, peeved. "What?"

"Only you could get turned on in a foreign country surrounded by enemy with guns, having been wounded in three places in the same day, in a foxhole _covered in mud,_" he stressed, laughing smugly to himself. I smacked him lightly on the helmet. "Yeah, okay, but look who's kissing me back," I hissed evilly, and smiled. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him roughly, deepening the kiss as I uttered a moan of delight. I arched my back as he started kissing down my jaw and onto my neck, breathing little laughs of happiness. A rogue hand slipped underneath my raincoat, and I bit back a squeal as he slapped me on the rear. "Ugh, God," he muttered against my skin, halting his assault on my neck where my raincoat began. "You are going to be the death of me, I swear to God. We're going to be fooling around, and then the Germans are gonna sneak up on us, and slaughter us where we lay." I laughed lightly and stroked his face lovingly. "Maybe you can get fully under my raincoat if we get back to England," I said suggestively, gleefully watching his eyes darken. As his fingers curled around my waist again, a scream shattered through the darkness, and I jumped up immediately. Joe leaped out of our foxhole and ran off. Cursing, I threw my pack over the edge of the foxhole and raised myself out, wincing on the stress it put on my chest and arm.

"Goddamn," I heard Joe exclaim nearby, and I hauled ass as I heard a frantic 'Medic!' called out to me. I ran, jumping over branches and foxholes, sliding down in the mud as I came to rest beside Joe and Tab, who was propped up against a tree, looking pissed. A frantic Smith stood in the foxhole, the tip of his bayonet bloody. I connected the dots as I kneeled down next to Talbert and began to inspect his wounds. "Smith, it's fine, I got him," I whispered calmly to the panicking man. "I'm gonna put some sulfa on the wound, Floyd, you're gonna be fine," I said to Tab, laying a gentle hand on his face as his breathing slowed down to normal. He whimpered in pain as I tore his shirt open and inspected the damage. Joe looked at me approvingly, and quirked an eyebrow at my shirt-ripping skills. I just rolled my eyes as I put on the face of calm.

"Shhhhh, now, _mon cher_, it's all gonna to be good, all gonna be fine," I muttered as Joe held back his clothes away from the wounds. I carefully bandaged the three punctures, holding the bandage down tight to stop the bleeding. I wrapped a long piece of gauze around his torso, leaning in to secure it around his back. Floyd looked at me appreciatively beyond the pain. "Gosh, Eloise, I had no idea you felt like this," he joked, and Joe scowled as I laughed. "Oh, Floyd, if you only knew," I faked a sigh, and he smiled. Gene arrived at the scene, just as the pain was beginning to become too much. I motioned to him impatiently. "Morphine?" I asked, and the syrette was placed into my hand. I stuck Tab with it swiftly, and clipped it to his pocket. "Okay, let's get him up and to a jeep," I said, and Gene helped me hoist him up. "I'll take him," Joe volunteered, and I gently backed out from under his shoulder.

"Wait," Tab garbled, morphine already going too his head. He looked at me sleepily. "Can I have a kiss?"

There was a beat of silence as Joe stiffened and I just stared at him, mouth open in disbelief. "_Pardon?_" I blurted out in French, taken aback.

"Please, just one on the cheek, only ask you since I'm hurt," he mumbled, and he tugged on my heartstrings so much that I shot Joe a pitiful look. _If you must, _his eye roll said, and I sighed.

"Fine, Tab, only this once," I said, stepping in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but at the last moment he turned his head and caught my lips full on. I yelped in indignation, and broke the kiss in shock, blushing furiously. "Really, Floyd!?"

"It was worth it!" he championed to the group, glancing up with a wobbling head at Joe's steamed expression. "Look at me, kissing on your girl," he drawled out, and I flushed harder.

"I am not his girl!" I cried out the same time Joe yelled "Shut your fucking mouth, Tab!" and Gene shot me a look. "Let's get you to the aid station, Tab," he said, leading Floyd away.

"Oh please, you two are in _love_," Talbert's voice drifted over the foxhole's loudly, and I cradled my face in my hands, heart racing.

"I'd punch your lights out, but you just got stabbed, hopefully to death," I heard Joe snap back, and I smiled despite my fear. If Tab knew, who else knew? Were we that obvious?

Smith had long vacated the scene and had scrambled to another foxhole, no doubt from shame. I decided to check on the men, and walked carefully in the opposite direction of my foxhole.

I stumbled through the darkness and saw two figures walking ahead of me. I froze momentarily before recognizing Blithe and Speirs, and I decided to follow.

"Got some nervous privates in your company," I heard Speirs say, and I silently added my agreement. "That we do sir, that we do. I'll vouch for that," Blithe replied, and I smiled. I had always liked him, the joyful one, always smiling and joking around with the other men. I hadn't seen that smile since he joined the company at Sainte Marie-du-Mont.

"They just don't see how simple it is," Speirs replied in a low voice. I snuck a bit closer to hear better. "Just do what you have to do."

"Like you did on D-Day, sir?" Blithe replied, and my heart raced at his gall. I held my breath and waited for the answer. I couldn't hear what Blithe was saying so quietly. I moved forward silently, glancing around the tree.

"You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?" Speirs asked. "We're all scared," I heard him reply, and I strained my ears to hear. "You hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope, but Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function like a soldier's supposed to function. Without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends upon it."

My heart leapt into my throat, and the blood rushed angrily into my ears. What the fuck?

The underbrush rustled as Speirs began to walk back towards my hiding place. I stood and steeled my nerves, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, ignoring light discipline. I waited until he had passed by me before making myself known.

"Flash," I said gently, and he turned quickly, scanning the shadows. "Thunder," he replied warily. I stepped out from my hiding place, masking myself in calm to hide that anger that raged inside me.

"Oh, it's you," he said evenly, and I quickly recognized the pattern that he would greet me by. I said nothing as I stared at him for a moment, smoking my cigarette. I flicked the ash and looked down at the ground as I walked forward to meet him. "Pretty exciting evening we're having out here," I commented dryly, looking up to stare at him with guarded eyes.

"Yes, we are," he replied. "I watched you fix up Tab. Getting pretty friendly with the men, I see," he commented, and I shot him a haughty look.

"I'd rather be familiar with them than scare the shit out of them," I replied tartly, words coming out of my mouth before I could stop them. Speirs stopped walking and looked down on me with his blank eyes.

"You heard my conversation," he said, stating it like a fact. I threw my cigarette down on the ground and put it out with the toe of my boot, drawing in a breath.

"There was no need to say that to him," I said firmly. "He's shell-shocked, he's not going to last much longer. That was unnecessary cruelty."

"But since you've been listening to the men gossip about me, you know that that's not rare," he snapped back, dropping his mask of calm. I did too, meeting his livid eyes with just as much fire.

"Have I ever asked you about the rumors? No. Why? Because I don't think they're true," I spat back, getting closer to his face. "And frankly, I treasure compassion, remorse, mercy, _hope_, because they keep me human. Love is a great gift," I hiss, and suddenly he's backed me into a tree.

"Love? _Love?_" he spits in my face, and I narrow my eyes. "You think you know about love because you patch a man up and give him a kiss?" He hovers in my face, eyes flaring dangerously. "You know _nothing_," he hisses, and I'm past the point of no return.

I shove him away from me, and he stumbles back, momentarily stunned at the contact. "Don't you even begin to tell me who I am, to judge _moi_," I point at him threateningly. "You know _nothing _about me. _Vous ne savez pas comment je me sens, sir_," I hiss back, letting the anger take over. His eyes widen slightly as he looks down, but his face does not waver. I drop my hand, suddenly exhausted. "You don't know me at all."

There's a moment of silence as we both watch each other, no one willing to be the one to walk away first from a fight. My side starts to ache and I press a hand to it, biting back a whimper from the contact. Speirs extends a hand forward. I slash him away with my hand and step backwards. "_Non, _no," I say, turning to leave. "_Sans pitie, sans compassion, sans remords,_" I mumble loudly enough to hear, though I know he doesn't understand. I tromp through the bushes, holding back angry tears from being so insulted. _That righteous ass, pompous dick, stupid fucking machine…_

Before I know it, I'm back at my foxhole, Joe sleeping soundly beneath my feet. I try to slide in silently, but he stirs anyway, and gathers me to him until I am curled against his chest, his hands wrapped around in front of me protectively, face nuzzled in my hair. I let a few stray tears escape before I drift off into sleep, and dream that I'm running after Speirs in the woods, hurling the worst things I could possibly say at him, only he ignores me and keeps walking away.

* * *

The morning dawned hazy, and I mentally prepared myself for what the Germans were going to hurl at us today. I walked quietly from foxhole to foxhole, doing my checkups to see if anyone needed anything before the day began. I wandered upon Harry, Bill, and Johnny worrying over a field map. I walked up and put a Bill's shoulder. "Interrupting, sorry - are y'all good for today? Need anything?" I asked, and the men shook their heads. Bill nudged me gently. "How's the side, Princess?"

"Not too bad," I replied. "A little sore, but I'll be okay."

Harry looked at me skeptically. "Explain to me how you're the medic, yet you're the most beat up out of all of us?" I just shrugged and he craned his neck to inspect the cut above my eye. "And how many wounds have you received at the hands of the enemy, exactly?"

"Four, if you count the cut," I winked.

Bill nodded thoughtfully. "We should nominate you for a Purple Heart, or something," he said seriously.

"Oh, pish, don't do that," I joked, but squeezed his shoulder appreciatively. "Plus, they wouldn't give me one anyway. Because that would mean recognizing women as strong and independent, elevating them over the man, and then housewives would revolt and chaos would ensue, and then boom!" I pop my hands out explosively. "Anarchy everywhere." I earned a few chuckles from the men around me before I winked, and moved on.

I didn't get very far when artillery hit, and I launched myself into a foxhole with George. "Jesus Christ!" I screamed as a machine gun opened up right on top of us, and George and I held ourselves down as flat as we could get to the ground. A man was gunned down next to us as he ran in to help, and as I dragged him over to me in the foxhole, George opened up. I ripped open a sulfa powder packet with my teeth and sprinkled it over the clean bullet wound in his shoulder. "I got you, I got you," I chanted, tilting his head up to look at me. "Look at me, okay? Just keep looking at me, soldier." The man slowly calmed down as I tied a bandage around his arm. "How're you feeling?"

He blinked slowly. "Good, I guess," he replied, looking down at his arm. "I'm gonna go back in and join the fight," he told me, and I nodded as he leaped out of our foxhole.

Harry skidded next to us as he yelled into George's radio for backup. This fight was ripping the hedgerows apart above us, and I stayed tense and crouched as I waited for the inevitable yell that would send me dashing away again.

Distantly I heard the call, and entered into the chaos. I went running from man to man, sprinkling sulfa like confectioner's sugar, slapping on bandages and reassuring everyone that it would be okay. I lost count of how many men I patched up, but entered into a zone of constant work, forgetting momentarily that there were bullets whizzing past my ears and people dying across from us.

Suddenly, the boom of a tank firing at me was all I heard or felt, until the consequential explosion blasted ten feet off my right. I screamed as I skidded down into the ground, shielding my face from the flying dirt. "Not fucking bloody likely!" I yelled behind me as I high-tail hauled it out of there. I'd be damned if the Germans didn't try to blow me up again.

I saw the left flank of defense running away from the hedgerow that had just gotten annihilated, and I cursed. Dodging artillery and bullets, I swerved around to the right and ran back into the heart of Easy.

Everything was quickly going to hell. On the left flank, or what remains of it, I watch the German tanks overrun the line and my face turns ashen. Determined, I stomp towards Easy and see Winters pulling Blithe out of his foxhole, firing his weapon sporadically. My eye catches movement as I watch Harry and McGrath run out in the open, carrying a bazooka.

"You fucking suicidal psychos!" I scream at them in disbelief, and watch as they fail to hit the tank coming directly at us. The round of artillery aimed towards them hits the trees and blows us all back, and I hit the tree behind me. At this point, I'm running on puge rage and adrenaline, and I'm madder than a rattler. Cries of 'Medic!' fill the air as I try to right myself and find the men. Gene rushes past me, patting me on the arm. "I got this!" he cries, and I send a little prayer heavenward for Eugene Roe.

Harry and McGrath finally hit the tank, and the whole damn thing explodes, blasting them to the ground as they crawl for cover back to the hedgerow. I run over and fall in next to Joe, grabbing Harry. "You better not be fucking wounded, because I am murdering you after all this shit is over!" I scream at him and he just grins, high off the danger.

The cries of medic are all around me, and as I rise to help and entire round is fired at me from the field, and I hit the ground. "Ugh!" I yell in frustration, beginning to really, _really_ hate the Germans.

Out of nowhere, the German tanks are hit with some heavy fire that appear out of nowhere. We look to our left to see Shermans rolling into the fight, and I break out into a crazed grin. "Oh, you beautiful, beautiful babies, you!" Harry cries, clutching Joe's shoulder. The sounds of cheering men echo around me as the Germans turn tail and begin to scramble, running out into the open. The tanks quickly decimate any resistance the enemy puts up, and just like that, the fight is over.

I roll over in relief, lying flat on the ground as my side twinges in pain, feeling like it's on fire. Joe offers Harry a cigarette, and he takes it with shaking hands, looking down on me. "You okay, Princess?"

"I'll be okay, I just need a second," I wheezed, coughing. I slowly roll over to my stomach and raise myself up, standing. "I gotta go check on my boys."

* * *

I wasn't there when Blithe was shot. I had been stationed to the field hospital in the camp town by the beaches, for several reasons. One was because my wounds weren't healing fast enough, what with me being thrown around in combat so many times, and Gene fretted like a mother hen over me until I agreed to go off the line. And the other reason was that clearly I had to atone for some sin, because God put me next to the field hospital tent that happened to belong to a certain Lieutenant Ronald Speirs.

The first few times I saw him, I ignored him, until one day he walked past me, muttering, "Ignoring me is not going to work, sergeant." So I quit that tactic.

The second plan was to make myself as scarce as possible around my tent, but I kept walking back to it at midnight to find that an extra blanket had been added to my cot, or a canteen holding fresh flowers had been placed on my footlocker. I had to scoff and smile a bit at those.

After a full week had gone by of my silent treatment, I looked up one day to see Speirs standing opposite me at the hospital operating table. "Jesus!" I startled, almost losing grip on a man's artery. "What are you doing?"

"Just came to tell you, we're moving back to England tomorrow," he said calmly, watching me while I worked on the man. "So you should probably start packing up as soon as you can."

"Oh...thanks," I said, letting the dialogue hang. There were a few moments of silence where I finished up on the man, letting the hospital nurses take over and walked away from the table. The sound of his boots followed me over to the sink.

"Have you been cold at nights?" he asked calmly, and I met his eyes for the first time. The were guarded, carefully assessing my reactions. _Probably because he thinks you're a time bomb_, my psyche whispered to me, and I frowned. "Yes, I have, thanks to an anonymous Good Samaritan who left me an extra blanket," I said carefully, watching his face as I washed my hands. "And the flowers help with the overall aesthetics of the place, as well," I said in a playful tone, shooting him a smile.

"Look, I didn't know...well," he stammered, and I looked at him in disbelief. Was Stonewall Speirs lost for words? "I just wanted to say that I was out of line, and shouldn't have said the things I did to you. It wasn't fair, and I realized you were right," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Was that...is that an apology, sir?" I asked incredulously. He looked up warily, and I nodded at him. "I shouldn't have said some of the things I did, as well. And I ask your apology."

"It's fine," he waved it away, but smirked. "Granted I had no idea what the hell you were saying, but your meaning was not lost on me. And I want to fix that."

I dry my hands off on a towel. "Fix...what?" I ask, trying to follow his train of thought.

Mild eyes turn down to meet mine. "I would like to get to know you," he says, and I smile despite myself.

"And here I was, thinking you wouldn't even touch me with a ten-foot pole," I joke, with laughing eyes. He smiles once, and it's pure brilliance. "Fine, come on over to my tent. I can't offer you tea but I do have a smuggled flask of Lieutenant Nixon's favorite whiskey," I smirk to myself, and he shakes his head.

Thirty minutes later, we're playing rapid fire Twenty Questions and have worked our way through half the whiskey. I lay on my side of the tent with my boots kicked off, toes wiggling happily at their freedom.

"Okay, favorite color?" he begins again, finishing his swig from the flask and handing it back to me.

"Sky blue or lavender. Favorite food?"

"Steak and baked potato, rare. Favorite book?"

"The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. You'd like it, I'll let you borrow it. What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Not a soldier, I wanted to be a police officer. Why'd you join up to be a nurse?"

"I was going to be forced into an arranged marriage," I blurted out without thinking, and silence falls as I look up at Speirs warily. "I shouldn't have told you that."

He just blinks at me, and then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who was he?"

"An old man," I say mercilessly. "A pervert, always after me. My family wanted his money." I flop over on my back and throw a hand over my face.

Is that why you keep throwing yourself into action? To get scorched off the face of the Earth to avoid him?" He keeps his mask of calm on his face, but I can hear the emotion in his words.

"No, sir. Honestly, I think I just have shit luck," I said truthfully.

"Every German does seem to be on a mission to blow you up," he admitted dryly, and I giggled. But his tone became serious again. "Would you still go home, if you knew he was there? After the war, I mean," he said, and I gape at his casual use of the future tense.

"That would mean surviving the war, which I'm not sure I'm going to do, given my current track record," I said carefully. "But no, I wouldn't. I would probably go bum it down in Key West until he was dead or my family saw some fucking sense," I snarled.

He rose up and paced away to the entrance of my tent. "Wait," I cried out. "I never got to ask you my question?" He nodded towards me as I sat up gingerly. "Are the D-Day rumors true?"

A couple of seconds passed as he stared at me, and I looked back without fear. I knew most men thought he was a bloodthirsty murder machine, but I didn't see that. I just saw a quiet, thoughtful man who just so happened to intimidate the hell out of everyone.

"Yes," he said suddenly, and I looked up. "But there were eight soldiers, not twenty. I did give them cigarettes first. I was ordered to take no prisoners by Colonel Sink, but I was also very upset." The silence rings as I soak up this new information.

"Why? Why were you upset, I mean?" He looks at me pointedly."Goodnight, Sergeant Saylor. Thank you for the hospitality, and the fun," he smiles, and turns to go.

"Eloise!" I call out, and he pauses. "You can call me Eloise." He nods in agreement, and leaves me alone in the tent.

* * *

England was paradise. To my delight, I was billeted again with the Withoulses, but something about Lew's wink when they dropped me off at their front door told me that it was no mistake.

I had never in my life felt anything more glorious than the bath I took that morning. Mrs. Wathoulse had somehow managed to scrounge up bath oils and fine-milled lavender soaps, and as I buffed the dirt out of my fingernails and skin, I sent a prayer of thanks that I had survived this far to enjoy these little things. They had been horrified when I showed them the scars on my head and neck, and told them about the puncture wound in my side that was still healing up. If they had it their way, I would live in their house until the war was over, being force-fed shortbread cookies and going to the pub with them and their old friends every Wednesday night.

After towel-drying my hair and pinning it into a half up-half down creation, I emerged from the bathroom to find that Mrs. Walthoulse had outdone herself again. Lying on the bed was a pretty dark lavender day dress, with a square collar and a sash to tie around the waist. I bit back a girly squeal and jumped up and down in a little dance. The dress fit like a dream, and as I tied the fabric around my waist, I realized how skinny I had gotten. Glancing in the mirror, I saw that the stress of battle had made me lose a lot of weight, and now I was almost as skinny as Joe. I smiled and snorted at that.

It was almost lunch time down at the mess hall, and I grabbed my sunglasses and dabbed on a bit of pink lipstick before I walked down the stairs and made my way there. Easy had a new shipload of replacements come in the other day and I had yet to meet them.

_Beep! Beeeeep!_ I high-pitched horn sounded from under my window, and I dropped the lipstick to peer outside. I almost died laughing. There sat Don and Alton, aboard a stolen Army motorcycle, drinking a couple of cold ones and enjoying their day. "What in the name of the Lord are you doing?" I yelled down at them, laughing.

Don just raised his beer to me while Alton giggled. "Princess, come down from your tower, your noble steed has arrived," he called out, and like a teenager, I flew down the stairs. Slamming the door shut behind me, I ignored Don's catcall and shaded my eyes, motioning towards the bike.

"A little bird told me that you like motorcycles," Don said, winking, and my mind traveled all back to those seemingly-carefree days at Toccoa, with Lew and I raising hell.

"That I do, Malarkey. Where are y'all going?" I asked.

"Oh, just a little joy ride before lunch," he said with a grin. "Hop on." He patted the back of the bike, and I climbed on, Alton still drinking heavily in the sidecar. With a rolling rumbled, Don peeled the bike out of the Withoulses' courtyard and out into the street.

I shrieked as my dress flew up, and I hastily pinned it down between my legs. Alton raised an eyebrow. "They should paint you onto the side of one of those airplanes," he said, raising his bottle, and I shot him a look. But I couldn't ignore how good it felt to have the wind in my hair, and I hung on for dear life when Don revved the engine and speed off even faster.

We flew down the country lane, the boys whooping in delight and my laughter floating behind us as we zoomed through the day. As we swung back into Aldbourne, a group of soldiers turned to look and whistled at me, but I didn't care. "Currahee!" Malarkey shouted and I laughed even harder, turning around to look behind me as we sped past the brick wall.

"Woah!" Don swerved suddenly, and I snapped my neck back to see us narrowly avoiding a collision with a supply truck. I screamed as we went off the road, and then slapped his arm when we skidded back onto the path. "Are you trying to kill me? After the Germans couldn't?" I yell at him, and Moore laughs from his seat, joined soon by Don. I roll my eyes as we bounce into the mess hall courtyard, and Don cuts the engine. "Jesus Christ, that sure was close!" he says, taking a swing from his bottle as I dust myself off. "Ah, we missed him by a mile," says Alton reassuringly, and I snort.

"That's the last time I ride with y'all, that's for sure," I say, and Don turns to look at me. "Oh yeah, we may or may not have told the replacements that you're our mess hall girl, and not our sergeant."

I look at him in disbelief, and he raises his hands up. "Wasn't my idea, the rest of the guys just wanted to see you light into them when they asked you to bring them food," he said, and I laughed.

"I guess that sounds like fun," I replied, a fiendish smile forming on my face. Don swung an arm around my shoulder and we walked into the building.

We had entered while Gordon was standing in front of the men, holding a piece of paper while the men cheered. Grinning, I walked up behind him and gave him a hug, patting him on the back when he turned around and smiled. The men all whistled and catcalled, but I just kept walking trying to find my guys.

"The Night of the Bayonet," Gordon drawled out, and the men cheered as I took my place next to Lip on the wall. I was hungry, but it could wait for this. "Hey, darlin'," I whispered to Gene as I bumped him with my shoulder. He looked down at my dress and raised an eyebrow. "You lookin' good, cherie," he said truthfully, and I gave him a wink.

"...hearing Floyd, but seeing Jerry!" I zoned back into the speech, and laughed along with the other men. "'It's me!" cried Tab, 'Don't do it!', and yet, Smith charged toute suite with bayonet. He lunged, he thrust both high and low, and skewered the boy from Kokomo," Gordon finished, and the men cheered. I watched from my perch as Bill stopped a red-head replacement, poking him in the chest. I worried for a moment whether I would have to step in, but suddenly they were all smiles, and Bill sat the kid down right next to him. I nudged Gene. "Look, Bill can play nice after all," he said, and I snorted.

"Since you weren't wounded by the enemy and therefore didn't qualify for a Purple Heart, we've taken matters into our own hands," Gordon said, unpinning one of his medals. "Tab this is for you." Gordon held out the Purple Heart as the men cheered appreciatively.

"I coulda shot the kid a dozen times," Tab said loudly, and Joe looked over at me and winked. I raised an eyebrow at him and smirked at the ground. "I just didn't think we could spare a man!"

"Wait, y'all, I'm not done yet," Gordon held up a hand. "there's also someone who didn't qualify for a Purple Heart, but since we've been discussing it, we thought that they deserved one, too. Not only did they get shot in the neck by the Germans on D-Day," my head snapped up as I looked at Gordon in disbelief, and the men turned to look at me with mischievous eyes. "And kept running alone through Normandy, but also refused to go to the aid station, and the next day got hit straight on by a bazooka and walked away with pieces of glass danglin' out of their body like some kind of freak show." I couldn't help but snort out a laugh as the replacements in front of me finally noticed me and looked with wide eyes. "This one's for Easy's own Warrior Princess, our Valkyrie, Sergeant Saylor!"

I blushed furiously but smiled widely as I strode up to Gordon and planted a kiss on his cheek as the men cheered. "Thank you, you really shouldn't have," I started to say, but he just swung an arm around my shoulder and shook his head. "We wanted to, girlie," Bill said as we settled down at his table, and sat between him and the new kid. I just looked down demurely with a big smile.

"Um, excuse me, miss?" someone asks, tapping me gently on the shoulder, and I turn around to see that it's the replacements. "Sergeant to you, private," I say not unkindly, but Skip snorts anyway. "Did you really get hit by a bazooka?" he asks with wide eyes as the others listen in. "Yep, sure did, in Carentan," I say, putting the medal in my pocket carefully. "What was it like?" he asks again, and the men at my table crack up.

I shoot them a look, and then turn back to them. "It hurt, a lot," I said dryly, but add a wink. "Do me a favor, don't get hit by a bazooka, okay?" They nod, and I turn around and giggle.

Lip stands up and walks to the front. "Couple of announcements, men. First - listen up - first, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been cancelled." Lip stands there as the men cheer, but the light has left his eyes, and I watch him warily. "Secondly, all passes are hereby revoked. We're heading to France, so pack up all your gear. We will not be returning to England, boys. Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office." There's a slow silence spreading around the room, as a church bell tolls in the background. "Trucks depart at 0700. As you were." He walks off to a room filled with silence, and I huff and roll my eyes.

"Here we go again," I said morosely, and rose up from the table to walk out the door. I just didn't want to wallow in the sadness that was gathering in there with the boys. As I walked past the doorway, I looked into the sky, a small patch of blue making its way past the dreary overhang that plagued England constantly. The day would be a beautiful one.

* * *

**Next one coming ASAP!**


	12. Chapter 12

**YES, FINALLY! Sorry for the late update - work has kept me for burning the midnight oil like I usually do when I write, but it's a necessary evil. Thank you again for the reviews and the enthusiasm for this story! Feeling like a champ. **

* * *

"Yeah, but you can't really talk about the expat movement without mentioning Fitzgerald," Webster stated matter-of-factly, taking a long draw from his pint while I rolled my eyes.

"_Of course_ you would like Fitzgerald, how could I not have seen that one coming," I scoffed, and Web shot me a look. "You Ivy Leaguers gotta stick together, after all."

Web and I were having our second 'Beer And Literature Night', where in the chaos of the Aldbourne pub we would find a centralized table where we could still be social with the men while ripping each other's throats out over books and authors.

"Oh, okay," he snorted. "And who would you consider worthy?"

"Ernest Hemingway, the only veritable example of an expat author who _actually fought_ in the Great War," I replied, tapping my cigarette on the back of the pack.

"Oh, I see, so an author's experience is the only thing that defines their work as a quality piece?" he fired back. "How very working-class of you."

"And pretending you fought in a war only to cash in on the benefits when you really aren't that talented? How very 'silver spoon' of you," I deadpanned, ignoring him as I watched Joe from across the room. He was in deep discussion with George and Bill, and I shuddered to think what they were cooking up next.

"Fine, _fine. _I concede to you the point. But explain, your theory is…?"

"That experience is the most important factor in writing when centering in on a certain subject, and focusing one's entire work on that theme," I replied, still not taking my eyes off of Joe. He must have felt my eyes on him, and as he looked my way, I winked. His answering smirk made me smile and I turned my head.

"Stop staring at your boyfriend," Web says, bored that I'm not playing our game anymore. I scowl at him. "He's not my boyfriend, Web."

"Yeah, sure, of course not," he snorts, and then raises an eyebrow at me when I continue to glare. "What? You think we haven't figured it out by now? Well, we have, but Buck still hasn't. You are _not _discreet."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I say evenly, staring at the wall behind his head.

"So your plan is to avoid the question until when, exactly? After the war is over?" he gestures to all of us, but out of the corner of my eye I see the bartender pouring fresh beer.

"And _what _question would that be, exactly?" I smile devilishly, and Web frowns at me. "Wait, what are we talking about? Oh, look… beer!" I jump up from the table and walk quickly away from Web, snickering as I do. Frustrating him to death is something that I do well, and often.

"Hello, beautiful," I sigh as I grab a fresh glass off the bar, and then with a second thought, put it back down. I'm suddenly caught it in a stirring of emotion, something wild inside me wants to do something crazy for the pure rush of it. Tonight, I'm getting happily drunk.

"Three shots of your finest whiskey and one bourbon and coke, please. Oh, and a beer after all that," I tell the bartender in a crisp tone, scooting my English money that I have no idea how to count over across the bar towards him. He gives me a wide-eyed look, and before I know it, all five of my drinks are clustered in front of me like a little family.

I laugh to myself and shake my head. The person who always made me laugh the most was myself. But really, I just wanted to feel something other than anger, and fear, and constraint. I lift the first shot glass to my lips, and toss it back quickly, wrinkling my nose as the sting of the alcohol clears my sinuses.

"Are we doing shots?" Lew asks, sliding up next to me from out of nowhere. I swat his eager hand away from my drink pile. "I'm doing shots, I don't know what you're doing," I replied tartly, and he smiled roguishly. "I'll have what she's having," he called over to the bartender, and I laughed before I saw that he was completely serious.

As the man set down two shot glasses in front of him Lew raised an eyebrow at me. "I propose this shot to not getting...shot," he finished lamely, and I sighed. I clinked his glass with mine, and we threw back the next one together.

"And this one," he continued, as I picked up the next glass with my eyes watering. "Goes to that gorgeous, tight little black dress you are wearing tonight."

"Lew," I hissed after the whiskey had reluctantly gone down. "Don't talk shit about my dress."

I had found it in the back of the Walthouses' daughter's closet, dusty and clearly unworn since 1940. The style was a bit off, but after cleaning it up, I decided that I didn't care enough to find something else and focused on my hair and makeup instead.

"I'm not, I'm not," he laughed, smacking me lightly on the back. "That was a compliment. Did it sound like a compliment?" he trails off, and I realize that he's already drunk.

"Let's go play," I tug on his shirt and carry my bourbon and coke over to the men.

* * *

I leaned against the wooden pillar, giggling hard as Buck put on his charade of losing the darts game. Lew stood right next to me, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. Each time he snorted, it would send me over the edge, and we would both burst out into loud laughter.

George rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Wheezy, would you keep it down? Buck here's losing his concentration," he said, retaining his serious tone but failing to keep the smile from his face as he turned away from Babe and Toye, who were grinning at each other in victory.

"I'm soooo sorry," I tried to put on a serious face, and held on to Lew to help his stop swaying. "I am extremely intoxicated, gentlemen." The group of men in front of me rolled their eyes, except for Babe, who was still nervous around me. I zeroed in on him.

"Babe," I called out, and everyone turned to look at me. "You know what I'm going to call you from now on? '_Bébé_', _parce que vous etes notre bébé_," I rattled off in French, and Lew slapped a hand over my mouth. "God, speak a language we understand," he whined, but smiled.

"You're embarrassing the lieutenant here," Bill said after Babe had thrown his shot. "Have a drink."

"Don't mind if I do, sarge," Babe said happily, clearly pleased with himself. "Better start winning some money, I think you're buddies are starting to miss ya," Bill replied, pointing over to where the replacements sat, looking downright miserable. Lew shrugged his shoulders as he walked away. "Not my problem," he called over his shoulder before joining the officers' table. I glanced over to see Ron come in, and sent him a happy little wave as the boys looked at me in disbelief. "What?" I said, shrugging. "He's my friend."

George tilted his head to the side, trying to understand. "He's your… _friend?_"

"Well, your friend is heading this way," Bill said darkly.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Ron said blandly as the men all nodded to him, and he looked down at me. "_Bonsoir, mademoiselle,_" he said to me, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Since when did you speak French, sir?" I replied, putting my hands on my hips. The men tried hard to pretend they were ignoring us as they picked up their game of darts.

"I figured that if people were going to start yelling at me in French, I could at least have an idea of what they're saying," he said dryly, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"_Tres bien_," I said stoically, and he snorted. The men glanced back with wide eyes, but whipped theirs heads back around when Ron looked over at them. "I'll leave you to your darts," he gestured, and walked off. _  
_

There was a pause before the men all jumped me at once. "I will never get over this," George said, shaking his head. "You two are actually friends. The man _chuckled_, for God's sake!"

"It's Speirs, isn't it?" Buck asked excitedly.

"No, you dolt, it's not!" Bill exclaimed. "You have gotta be blind, we've already figured out who it is!"

"Okay!" I said, getting up and walking off. "Nope! Not today, not ever, I'm not having this conversation with y'all! I'm going to go make some new friends who don't hassle me all the goddamn time!" I waved vaguely in the direction of the replacements, who were having a quiet discussion.

"Wait, baby doll, I think I'm going to go introduce myself, too," Bill said. "Be careful what you say now, it don't take much to set my guys off," Bull said sarcastically, and I laughed. "Yeah, you got some wild-eyed killers right there, Bull," Johnny scoffed, and Bill chuckled.

I walked over and stood in front of the three young men, who all looked startled to see me acknowledging their presence. "Hey y'all, mind if I pull up a chair?" I asked sweetly, and they frantically shook their heads 'no', one of them standing up to grab a seat for me. "Oh, thank you!" I remarked, sitting down and pulling out a cigarette. Three lighters instantly raised up for me to chose from, and I grinned a little as Bull and Johnny laughed behind me.

"Hey fellas," Bill said as he sat down beside me. "Whadd'ya hear, whadd'ya say?"

"Uh, that's actually Babe's seat, Private Heffron's," one replacement said, and I slid my eyes over to Bill, inhaling deeply. "Is that right? I don't care if it's fuckin' Eisenhower's."

The replacement just sat there and blinked, silently chagrined by Bill's attitude, and I clucked my tongue. "My, my, Bill, _manners,_" I said, smiling at him knowingly. If he was going to be the devil, then I would be the angel.

Bill just looked at me, and I sighed. "Who're you?" he asked, pointing to the one to his left. "Private Miller, James Miller. I'm in Sergeant Randleman's squad," the boy spoke up, eyes flickering to Bull standing behind us.

"I'm Leo Hashey," said the one who piped up about the chair. "Tony-"

"Garcia, yeah, I know who you are," Bill cut in, scrutinizing them. "Ol' Gonorrhea don't miss nothing."

"A pleasure," I cut in smoothly, winking at Hashey, who swallowed audibly, and I giggled. The boys kept glancing at me nervously, as if they didn't have the slightest clue what to make of me.

"This is the Princess, don't buy her 'nice girl' act," Bill said, and I looked over at him in fake shock. "She's the toughest son of a bitch in the company."

"I wouldn't go _that _far," I drawled, raising an eyebrow. "But we know now that I can take a bullet… and a minor explosion… and a stab wound to the side…" I drawled, and Miller drew back a little. "I'm the field nurse."

Bill chuckled. "She's gotten hit more than any of us, and she's still standing." I smiled, but turned to see Joe staring at me from across the room. "Excuse me. It was wonderful to meet y'all. Come and tell me if Bill's being too mean, I'll go and put him in his place." I throw a wink at Bill and laugh at his scowl.

Walking towards Joe, I nod my head back to their table and roll my eyes as he huffs a chuckle. Sitting down at the now vacated table, I intertwined my fingers with his behind our chairs. "Poor little babies, I almost feel sorry for them." I said, looking over to where Bill was luring them in with a joke unfairly. "They're so unprepared."

"Bill's gonna eat them alive," he remarked, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles. He smiles at me but his mouth tightens a little on the edges. "What did Speirs want?"

"Not much," I admitted, watching Bill and the Babies out of the corner of my eye. "He just stopped to say hello. We're kind of friends now, I suppose."

"Friends?" Joe snorted, his voice hard. "He does not want to be your _friend_, Eloise."

"You think he's trying to get fresh with me?" I ask, thinking on it. He did go out of his way to talk to me, and then there were the times at the field hospital in France. "Oh."

"Yeah, '_oh'_," Joe snorts, and I squeeze his hand, giving him a look. "He's attractive, sure, but he pisses me off beyond reason. And I'm not too fond of how he treats his men," I say, trying to be reassuring. I think it works because Joe relaxes just a little bit. "And plus, I'm pretty head over heels for someone else," I say, smiling sweetly.

"I can deal with that," he mutters sensually, and my heart flutters in my chest. I'm suddenly struck by the silence coming from the Babies, and look over to see Bill smiling at them satanically while they sit, all traces of laughter wiped off their faces. "C'mon, lets go see what that's about," I say, and Joe groans but follows me anyway.

"You new boys, you pay attention to Sergeant Randleman, you got that? That's the smartest man in the company," Bill says dangerously as we walk up. I quickly scan the situation as Joe wanders over to see the progress of the darts game. "What? Are we all going around the circle and saying nice things about Bull?" I ask with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, Bull! I just wanted to confess my love for you for the seventh time. Just so you know."

Bull rolls his eyes and takes a drag from his cigar, but a smile finds its way onto his face. "Yeah, yeah, we all know," he mutters, and Johnny laughs, winking at me.

I turn back to the Babies. "You'll learn how to throw their shit back at them in no time," I said quietly, giving them an honest look. Hashey nodded, and I turned to find Joe.

"Where'd you get that?" I hear a snide voice ask, and I look to see Cobb jumping on Miller. If there was one person in the company that I truly disliked, it was Cobb. I scowled.

"It's a Presidential Distinguished Unit Citation, for, uh…..for what the regiment did in Normandy," Miller answers evenly, and I note how cool and collected he is, especially with Cobb jumping down his throat.

"That's right, for what the regiment did," Cobb says snidely, and the men in the five foot radius around us stop talking and watch Cobb with exasperated expressions. "You weren't there."

"Hey, ease up Cobb," Hoobler says, interjecting his little tirade. "It's a unit citation." I share a glance with Bull, who is hovering near the scene like I am, and I wonder which one of us is going to jump in first.

Miller looks at Hashey and Garcia with tired eyes, and very slowly takes off the little blue bar and sets it on the table, rising up to go. "No, no, _mon cher_," I say firmly, grabbing a hold of Miller's arm before he can walk off and shoot a glare at Cobb, who just glares back. Picking up the little bar from the table, I gently fasten it back on his jacket. "You're a part of this company, no matter what anyone says," I tell him softly, looking at him seriously. He gives me a little nod, and then escapes out the side door of the bar. I can feel Joe's eyes on my back as I approach Cobb, narrowing my eyes.

"The fact that you chose to spew your vile attitude on the newest and most vulnerable member of the company says a lot about your character," I sneer, heat rising in my cheeks. "You should be ashamed."

Bull walks up behind me as I turn to go. "Shit, Cobb, you didn't fight in Normandy neither," he says, holding his cigar.

Cobb looks livid. "I got hit in the plane before I got a chance to jump," he says to Garcia, who at this point looks completely fed-up with the entire situation. I snort and walk over to where Miller has joined the darts crew, and I smile at him complacently. Joe just raises an eyebrow as I settle beside him. "I'm glad he didn't mouth off to you, otherwise I would've had to gone over there and kick his ass," he said, exhaling smoke.

"Yeah, I would've joined you in that," I said distantly, staring off into the bar. Bill snorted. "I would pay good money to see both of ya put the hurt on Cobb," he said darkly, and I laughed.

"Hey y'all, listen up!" the joyful voice of Gordon filters through the air. "I gots an announcement to make. This here's Carwood Lipton."

"He's already married, Smokey," Skip yells out, and the men chuckle.

"This here's Carwood Lipton, the new Easy Company First Sergeant!" Lip just stands there, being shaken back and forth by an exuberant Smokey and smiles his little smile. The men and I cheer and whistle, and I wink at him from across the room. Gosh I loved Lip, like every man here, and now we could all relax without worrying about who was in charge. I whistled and he blushed.

"And as befitting his position, he says he has to make an announcement," Smokey finished, and Lip nodded his thanks.

"Well, hate to break the mood here boys, but we're moving out again," he announced, and walked off. The bar rang with reserved silence as we all glanced at each other, dreading the idea of leaving Aldbourne. I sighed, glancing down at my watch.

"Time to turn in," I said, looking up at my boys. "Y'all don't do anything I wouldn't do." I winked and walked off, Joe following behind me.

"Jesus Christ," he said as we exited into the cool night air. "The brass sure know how to kill an evening, don't they?" He slung an arm around my shoulder as we walked down the street towards the Withoulses' house.

"I don't know, Joe," I said tentatively, a slight chill running up my spine. "This next time, I feel like it's going to be… different."

"'Different'? What does that mean?" he asked, stopping me in the middle of the street. I shrugged.

"I don't know, I just get the feeling that the next few months are going to be really tough," I frowned, feeling cold all of a sudden. I shivered and pulled my jacket around me.

"Well, yeah, Eloise, we are in a _war_," he said, exasperated until he turned around and looked at my face. "Do you feel okay? You look really pale."

I stared down at the ground, seeing nothing in particular, but a feeling tugged at my gut, as if it was trying to show me something, warn me of what was coming. "I don't know," I said quietly, not breaking my gaze. He put a hand on the small of my back and led me forward.

"Let's just get you home so you can sleep," he said firmly, and I nodded as if that would solve anything at all.

* * *

"Market Garden," Gene remarked quietly next to me at the briefing for the next jump. "What the hell kind of name for a operation is 'Market Garden'?"

"What is a market garden, anyway?" I mused aloud. "Is it where the vegetables that farmers plan to take to market are grown?" Next to me, Gene began to snicker and I smiled.

"Is it a garden of markets?" he mumbled, and I snorted loudly, causing Winters to shoot me a look, and I tried hard to get my giggles under control. Skip flicked my back behind me, and I shot him a scalded look from over my shoulder.

"The Allied objective is to take this road between Arnhem and Eindhoven, so the two British Armored divisions can move up toward Arnhem. Our job is to liberate Eindhoven, stay there, wait for the tanks," Winters nodded as Nix took over.

"The entire European advance has been put on hold to allow resources for this operation. It's Montgomery's personal plan that we be under British command," he said, as the men around me groaned. Nobody liked being told what to do from the pompous Brits. "The good news is, if this works, the tanks will be over the Rhine and into Germany - that could end the war and get us home by Christmas."

_It won't work_, something in my head spoke up silently and I started awake out of my daze. Where had that come from? I glanced around, completely startled, and Gene noticed my discomfort. He laid a reassuring hand on my arm, and I calmed down enough to send him a nod of thanks.

"It'll be a daytime jump, Intelligence doesn't expect much opposition, they think the Krauts in Holland are mostly kids and old men, and we should take them by surprise," Nix paused. "Any case, say goodbye to England. I don't think they're going to call this one off."

I rose silently, walking out of the tent as quickly as possible. I felt the eyes of the men on me, but I had to get out of there. I was going to be sick.

I jogged over to the side of the airfield, and sank down as my stomach began to churn. Gene ran up behind me, kneeling down and putting a hand on my back. "What in the world is happening to you?" he asked, clearly concerned as I turned green. I shook my head.

"I think they're something wrong with me, Gene," I said carefully, closing my eyes as the nausea washed over me in waves. Gene slid a finger under my chin to feel my pulse, and put his hand to my head. "You don't feel ill," he said calmly, going into medic mode.

"No, I don't mean with my body," I swallowed thickly, glancing around to see if anyone was listening in on our conversation. "I mean, up _here_," I tapped my head, looking at Gene in despair. "I keep seeing and feeling things."

"_Seeing_ things?" he asked, listening carefully. I nodded.

"I had a dream before we jumped, where all the men were sitting dead in a plane over an ocean at night, and they all came alive and tried to grab me," I drew a shaky breath, trying not to conjure the image of his death-self into the face of my friend. "I used to have those types of dreams when I was little, but my parents told me they were just night terrors. I feel sick afterwards. I feel chills when I sense as if something is going to happen. I just - I don't know."

There's a moment between us where Gene looks at me carefully, and I know that once we cross this bridge, there's no going back over the river.

"You're not Creole or Cajun, are you?" he asks quietly, and I shake my head. "No, I'm directly French-Irish," I say, and he scratches his head. "Well, I can't be too sure I know what's happening, but I think it might not be you going crazy." I furrow my brow, and he shrugs. "Stranger things have happened."

"But today, I actually _heard_ something," I said, grabbing his arm. "What was it?" he said slowly.

"When Nix was talking about getting home by Christmas, this silent voice in my head just piped up and told me 'It won't work'. And that was it. It wasn't a particular voice, it wasn't even in my voice, it was just there: 'It won't work'. And then I felt ill." I lean back against the jeep I was crouching next to, my body suddenly tired. "Hearing voices cannot be a good sign."

"Okay, enough of the pity party, get off the ground," Gene said gently, and hauled me up, slapping a reassuring hand on my back. "Just don't tell anyone else about this, okay? I'll write my grandmother, see if she knows anything - she's deep into the old-time beliefs. Meanwhile, you should probably write all of this stuff down." I tilted my head thoughtfully. That hadn't occurred to me before, but it seemed like a good idea.

That night, I pulled out the little black notebook I had been writing dates and happenings in since D-Day. Tapping my pencil on the spine, I pondered where to begin.

_May 1944 - Plane dream. Vomited afterward. Joe was there._ I smiled fondly at how he had taken care of me. That man was an utter softie at the core.

_13 September 1944 - Feeling of dread. Shivers, became very cold and dizzy._

_14 September 1944 - First voice heard, 'It won't work'. Nauseated. Told Gene about past 'feelings'._

I stopped scribbling and sighed, looking at the page. I really was going insane.

* * *

The next day while preparing for the jump, I made sure that I had all the proper medical equipment for what the men would be facing. I tucked extra morphine syrettes into the edges of my spare clothing, between the pages of my notebook, and even inside my helmet. I wasn't going to fall on short supply like we did in France.

George walked up to me as I knelt on the ground, shoving my things down into my bag forcefully. "Pretty day for an invasion, eh?" he quipped, hands shoved in his pockets.

"I'll say," I said, standing up and shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun. Nearby, the Babies were getting a hands on demonstration on how to land fighting by Cobb, who I was pleased to see was being a bit nicer than he had been at the bar two nights ago.

"Cobb's scared of you, by the way…told us all about it after we had left that pub. Says you're demon-possessed," he snorted, and I gave him my best Speirs impression. "How do you know I'm not?" I said with no emotion, and he took two steps back as I laughed.

I heard the sound of a car horn in the distance, and I turned to see a caravan approaching. I smiled joyfully when I saw Popeye standing in the back of the jeep, surveying the airfield like a conquering prince. But then I saw who was riding shotgun in the jeep, and my mouth dropped open.

Herbert Sobel. _No way_, I thought to myself as George swore aloud. The men of Easy all stopped what they were doing and stared, dumbfounded at the sight. Why was he here?

He watched us with haughty eyes as he rolled past, one part hatred and another part shame. Surely it hadn't been easy to adjust to Chilton Foliat, but as I watched him the words I had spoken to him on his last day in the company hit me like a wrecking ball. Now that he was here, there was no way in hell I was going to go near him to receive any more shit thrown my way.

Sobel hopped out of the jeep, walking swiftly to the back of the truck where I saw crates of medical supplies. _Gene and Spina can deal with that_, I thought to myself, trying to hide my guilty grin. George looked at me knowingly and walked away. I wanted to go welcome Popeye, who had gone AWOL by the look of it, back to the company but there was no way I was going that close to Sobel.

I walked quickly behind the men, hoping to intercept Popeye and Lip before they got too deep into the celebratory return, but as I passed Alton he grabbed on to my arm. "Hey girl," he said, nodding towards the truck. "Lookie there." I turned and saw that behind the supply boxes sat the motorcycle that Malarkey had commandeered earlier during our stay. "Oh, shit," I mumbled, frantically searching for Don. I saw him standing beside the truck, Sobel in front of him. When they both looked my way, I turned tail and ran.

"Nope, nope, nope, nope, NOPE," I muttered loudly to myself as I tried my best to hurry away without seeming conspicuous, and failing miserably. I needed a place to hide, fast. I quickly darted into a side tent and held my breath, edging my feet away from the opening flap. I let out a shaky breath.

After a moment, a pair of boots begins to crunch towards me from outside, and I momentarily panic, looking for a hiding place inside the tent. Before I could truly breakdown, the tent flap was pushed aside a bit, and Joe stuck his head in.

"What are you doing hiding in the tent?" he whispered, and I scoffed audibly.

"I'm not hiding in the tent!" I exclaimed as he made his way in, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"Like shit you aren't," he replied, walking over to me slowly. He gave me a once over, smirking. "Let me guess - Sobel?"

"And the motorcycle," I sighed, a piece of my braid falling into my face. Joe reached over and tucked it behind my ear. I grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, smiling as I heard him groan. "You know what I just realized, corporal?" I said, moving his hand down around my waist. "We are alone, in a very dark tent, with ten minutes before our jump time. I-"

But I never got the next word out of my mouth. Joe's hands were on me in an instant, and I giggled wickedly as his lips met mine. He pulled me flush against his body, and I shivered unconsciously. Fisting my hands in his hair, I pulled lightly and elicited a growl from him. I smiled evilly in the midst of our kiss, and he pulled back to look at me with eyes clouded over with lust.

"Do you know how badly I want you?" he asked, voice deep. "Do you know how often I dream about you?" He tilted my head back as he whispered in my ear, and I wasn't sure what kind of noises I was making anymore. "About you and me in a locked room?" He shoved me up against a stack of boxes I didn't know were behind me. "How it would feel to touch you everywhere?" In one swift move, he lifted me up and sat me down on top of the boxes, pressing himself between my open legs. "To watch you lose complete control?"

That did it. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him towards me. Joe made a guttural sound up against me, and I pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, ignoring the sound of it falling on the grounds. My head swam as the frenzy took over, breath coming in quick, shallow pants as I attacked his neck with open-mouthed kisses; his hands found their way into my jacket and underneath my shirt, rising upwards to ghost over my brassiere.

"Easy Company! Prepare to board the aircraft!" came the nearby call from Buck, and both Joe and I froze where we were. He growled angrily as he cupped my face and tilted my head up, looking hungrily at my flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. He grimaced as he ran a thumb over my lips, swollen from kissing. "God, life is cruel," he muttered, leaning down to press a hungry kiss to my lips. "This is going to torture me until…"

I looked up at him from under my eyelashes and grinned wickedly. "Until we're in a locked room, where you touch me everywhere?" I said innocently as I readjusted my clothes, hopping down and picking his jacket off of the ground. I looked up and stared into his eyes. "Watching me lose control?"

There was a beat of electricity between us until Joe threw his jacket back on the ground. "That's it, fuck Holland," he said, striding forward and grabbing me by the waist as I laughed, and my laughter turned into a yelp of surprise when he grabbed my ass.

"Easy Company, gather around now!" Buck's irritated voice filtered through my haze. I untangled myself from Joe's arms. "We have to go, you know," I said begrudgingly, raising an eyebrow and trying to smooth down his tousled head. "I did a number on your hair here, I'm afraid."

"I don't give a fuck," he said, fingers still gripped around my waist. I grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, ending this the way I had started it, and from his smirk I knew he hadn't missed that detail.

Pulling my pack onto my shoulders, I turned around and winked at him, still trying to amass all of his gear. "See you on the ground, _mon âme_," I said playfully, exiting the tent. I giggled as I walked towards the men, feeling completely obvious. We were born troublemakers.

* * *

**I know this one is shorter than what I usually crank out, but the next one is coming soon! Y'all rock. **


	13. Chapter 13

**If I had a mini confetti cannon to pull for every review I got that made me squeal with excitement, my room would be covered in little bits of string. At least, that's how I feel when y'all tell me how eager y'all are to read each chapter and how you can't wait for the next one! It gives me life. LIFE!**

**Enjoy. I'm working on collaborating all the songs that are helping me write this story into a playlist. I'll post it on my profile if y'all are interested!**

* * *

We laid low in a ditch outside of Eindhoven, and I rubbed my bruised fingers while we awaited orders. Web had stepped on my hand when we landed, and my fingers were already beginning to swell and turn a gorgeous shade of blistering red.

Hoob scurried down the line, running low with a few bottles in his hand and a crazy grin on his face. "Where'd you get that, Hoob?" someone whispered out, and he shrugged. "I think I love Holland," he replied, and wheezed a chuckle. He handed Perconte a beer and I looked at him in disbelief. "Where'd you find these?" Frank asked, turning it over in his hands. "At that farmhouse over there, just sitting out in the open! I don't know, maybe they were expecting us." I rolled my eyes, and next to me Bull snorted.

The C-47s roared overhead as they quickly zoomed back to England. I looked up and watched them fly home to safety, something that I wished we all could do. "Goodbye air support," Web mumbled, and I nodded my head silently in agreement.

"There's some kind of hold-up ahead," a runner told us, crouching down and pointing to his right. "We're going in through this field here." Bull nodded and motioned for us to follow, and we hustled out of the ditch. I threw my pack on my shoulder, hearing the clink of all my stuffed syrettes jingling together, and smiled at my ridiculousness. I probably had enough morphine on me to sedate the entire German army. _Which wasn't a terrible war tactic_, I thought to myself with a grin.

The field was grassy and wet, and Gene and I picked through the swampy underbrush with ease. "This reminds me of the bayou, sorta," he whispered to me, and I reached over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "This reminds me of when I would go duck hunting with my father in the river marshes," I replied, and he smiled.

The peace was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a window being unlatched, and all of us dropped down and watched as a woman leaned out and draped an orange banner out of it, and I sighed in relief. Orange was the color of the Dutch royal family, the color of the resistance. Smiling wide, I looked over at Gene. "I think this is going to be easier than we thought," I joked, and Gene let out a bated breath.

* * *

A melee of chaos awaited us in Eindhoven. People flooded the streets, waving their tricolor flags and singing their national anthem victoriously. I tried to stick with the men in a reasonable line, but that plan was quickly aborted once the boys saw the willingness of the Dutch ladies to lay a few kisses on their heroes.

I grabbed onto Lip's arm, laughing at all of the beautiful chaos around me. "Where the hell is everyone?" I yelled happily, and he just shrugged, not even trying to fight the smile that was working its way onto his face. "No idea, just try to keep moving!" he replied, and I broke away after I saw a familiar messy flop of dark hair in the distance. I removed my helmet and strapped it onto my pack, and caught Joe by the arm. He turned around, smiling ear to ear. "Where is everybody?"

"Hell if I know," he said breezily, looking around us in disbelief. "Some kind of swinging party, huh?"

"I'd say," I scratched my head, letting my hair fall loose. A few women nearby pointed at me and said something quickly in Dutch, and immediately we were surrounded by a crowd of people patting me on the shoulder and old men kissing me on the cheek, all attracted by the novelty of a female soldier. I laughed and obliged them, and a little blonde-headed girl ran up to me and hugged my leg, refusing to let go. Laughing, I stooped down and picked her up, swinging her into my arms as she giggled maniacally. She put one of her little baby hands on my cheek, and I bounced her up and down as she chattered senselessly to me in a language I didn't understand.

"Where's your mama?" I asked her in a sing-song voice, enjoying the feeling of having a child in my arms, of feeling female for once. A frantic woman came running out of the crowd, yelling a name over and over again, and I reached out and grabbed her. A look of relief came over her face as she scolded the child in my arms, and I gently passed the little girl to her mother. The woman looked at me in surprise, but then reached out and squeezed my hand appreciatively. "_Danke_," she said kindly, then disappeared into the crowd.

Joe had watched the whole show without commenting, but there was a strange gleam in his eyes even as we picked our way through the crowd, looking for Easy Company. He swung a protective arm around me, and looked over his shoulder every now and then as if he was watching out for potential threats, but I didn't say anything against it. Perhaps the large crowd made him nervous.

Lieutenant Peacock was having a conniption on top of a jeep. "Keep moving! Keep moving!" he shouted over and over again, panic settling into his features. He did not do well with unplanned disorder, I supposed.

Joe and I shuffled past Tab, who was a little busy with a very, _very _friendly Dutch woman. As we walked past their entwined form, Joe snuck an arm around my waist. "That looks vaguely familiar, doesn't it?" he rumbled in my ear, and I shot him a wink and suppressed a smile. Catching sight of Lew and Winters standing on the corner of the sidewalk, I changed my direction to head towards them, but my concentration was cut off by the scream of a woman.

I whipped my head around, and instinctively made my way to where the crowd had grown especially thick, forming a circle around something and chanting words I didn't understand. "Eloise, wait!" Joe cried, trying to grab my arm, but I was too far gone for him to capture me efficiently.

I stood by in stunned silence as I watched a few men grab the woman that Tab had been kissing and rip her dress off her shoulders. My breath hitched in my throat as I circled round the group and saw the tufts of shorn hair scattered around the ground, the other women in the circle who had been shaved bald and stripped down to their shifts. I couldn't fathom what to make of this, and was trying to figure out a way to intervene, when one of the women was carried past me, a black swastika drawn on her forehead. _Oh._

I let out a shaky breath as I backed up a few steps, and collided gently with Harry, who reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and Winters with wide eyes, before glancing back at the enraged mob. "Good Lord in heaven," I swore under my breath, and shook my head.

"What did they do?" Harry asked over the raised voices of the crowd. "They slept with the Germans," the voice of a man replied, and we all turned to see a man with an orange armband on the arm of his sweater, looking at us knowingly. "They are lucky - the men who collaborated are being shot," he added, nodding to himself.

"Mr. Van Clarke here is with the Dutch Resistance," Lew added, and Winters and Van Clarke shook hands while I tried to shake the feeling that I would be the next one to be dragged into the circle. I hastily unsnapped my helmet from my pack and popped it on my head, tucking my hair underneath. "We've been waiting and hoping for this day, for almost five years," he said. "Said he can help us secure the bridges here," Lew added, and the trio of men walked off. I grabbed onto Buck as we followed, and he tucked me up against him as we squeezed through the throng, all laughter gone from my system. Yes, this was a celebration, but I had forgotten to that these people, we truly were saviors from the Germans and their horrible reign of terror. It felt wrong to walk away from the women in the circle, but there was nothing I could do. The people wanted revenge, and they would get it one way or another.

As we finally caught up to Winters and Buck, who was standing on a streetlamp to get a better view of the town, the British armored finally rolled in with their tanks. The excited crowd quickly turned their attention to their newest visitors, and I sighed with relief as they vacated the street that we had arrived on, driving our wayward men towards us.

"Get scouts to clear the town just in case we're here for the night," Winters told Buck and Harry, nodding at me as he walked away with Van Clarke. Joe ran up to us, shooting me a glare for not staying with him, and I walked towards him. He was about to snap at me up until he looked in my eyes, and whatever sad emotion they were conveying stopped him right in his tracks. I looked at him straight on, but somehow I couldn't focus in. "I'm sorry," I said simply, with no emotion. I was still in a haze.

"Let's start checking this town for potential hazards. Meanwhile, Eloise, you take the rest of the men and find somewhere to set up camp," Buck said, and I walked off with a silent Joe behind me to go find Lip and carry out the order.

* * *

"Oh my God, that actually smells like food. Real food!" Lip moaned as he came over and approached my ramshackle kitchen that I had built out of an old cooking pot and a pile of firewood. I stirred my concoction and smiled gently over the simmering pot, reaching behind me for more onion powder. "Well, might have done a _little_ shopping before we left Eindhoven. To boost the local economy and whatnot, also because I was sick of eating K-rations," I replied, tapping the big wooden spoon on the edge of the pot.

"With what money?" he asked, the crickets chirping softly behind him in the night. I furrowed my brow at him as I looked up. "With my money," I replied simply, rotating the pot to heat faster.

"Your money? As in, your pay from the airborne?" he asked, disbelievingly. "You haven't been sending that home?"

"No, my parents don't want it. They want me to keep it in case I need to go shopping," I said, adding a few more pieces of wood to my fire.

Lip snorted. "Jeez, not wanting extra money. You are the Princess, after all," he rocked back on his heels and sat on the ground next to me. "What are you making, anyway?"

"Gumbo, or as close as you can get to gumbo in Holland," I joked, and lifted the spoon towards his face. "Wanna try some?"

Lip raised an eyebrow, but tentatively grabbed the spoon and nibbled some of the food. "Holy Mary, that is some good shit, Wheezy," he said, glancing down into the pot. "Better than Malarkey's crap any day."

"That's what I told Don," I laughed, and Lip giggled, too. "You can have some, if you like. Here, watch it while I go get some bowls." I shoved off the ground and went into the abandoned barn where Gene and I had stored all of Easy's medical supplies, and where we had made our beds for the night. I nudged his sleeping form gently with my boot. "Supper's on," I whispered quietly, and he groggily got up and stumbled out towards the fire to join Lip. I grabbed the reconnaissance bowls I had taken from the empty farmhouse down the road and some spoons and rejoined the men outside.

"Alright, let's get ready to feast," I said, rejoining the men. I spread my hands over the fire, and closed my eyes. "Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and us to thy service," I mumbled out quickly, the dinnertime prayer of my childhood resurfacing in my mind. Gene nodded solemnly. "Ayyyymen," he drawled, and within five minutes we were too busy eating to speak.

"What's in this?" Lip asked, poking around. "Chicken and smoked sausage," I replied, mouth full of food.

"How much did you pay for all this?" Gene asked, and I shrugged.

"Well, I just shoved fifty dollars at the butcher and another fifty at the grocer. I figured they needed it more than I did."

"I for one am enjoying my hundred dollar meal," said Lip, and I chuckled behind the gumbo.

"I'm gonna go offer the rest to the boys," I said, hauling the warm pot up and carrying it in both hands. "I'll see y'all in a bit."

I walked out into the darkness, calm and steady with the food. The woods at night had never bothered me. From childhood I had been sneaking out with my siblings after dark to go explore and run around, getting in trouble looking for ghosts downtown at the old city cemetery and generally causing a ruckus. I stumbled upon Bull, Johnny, and Bill, all leaning up against a haystack and smoking quietly. "Hey y'all, you want some food?" I whispered, and before I knew it they had snatched the entire batch from me, drawing attention from the other men surrounding them. I laughed and wiped my hands on my pants, and walked back into the night.

As I turned the bend, a twig snapped in the darkness, and I immediately took a knee. "Flash," I hissed urgently, looking around to try to find the source of the noise, when Joe walked from behind a haystack. "Thunder," he replied with a smile, and I rolled my eyes as I got up off the ground.

"Almost gave me a heart attack," I chided, nudging him with my shoulder as we walked towards the barn. Lip and Gene had vacated the area, probably to go check on the men, and I stomped out the remainder of the fire before lighting a lantern and leading Joe into the barn.

The light cast the shadows into obtuse and sharp angles, making darkness where previously there was none. I hung the lantern on a rusty nail sticking out of one of the beams, and straightened my bedroll on the pile of hay I had made into a temporary mattress. Collapsing tiredly onto the mound, I lay for a second with my eyes closed until I heard Joe sit down next to me. He slowly removed his boots, groaning as he settled in against me, winding a hand around my waist. We laid there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the noises of the night and the sound of our breathing, now synchronized into one steady, repetitive rise-fall of our chests.

"I'm sorry for running off on you today," I said quietly, and he rubbed a circle on the top of my hand. "It's okay, I just didn't want you to get hurt," he replied, and pressed his lips to my neck.

"Joe," I tried to keep my voice calm, but a little squeak of fear escaped from my mouth. "Do you know why they were doing that to those women? Because they slept with the Germans."

He nodded, brushing a tendril of hair away from my face. "Yeah, I found out from Buck. I've never seen anything like that before," he said, his voice a whisper.

I swallowed, thinking about the sea of angry faces and the tears of the shamed women. "But… what if they were forced to?"

There was a beat of silence, and he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he replied quietly. But that wasn't enough for my troubled mind, now going miles a minute. I turned around and faced him as we lay there, interlocking our legs. I could feel the fear on my face and it startled him visibly. He placed a reassuring hand on my cheek as I started blurting my thoughts.

"What if they were raped? What if they had to do it? And then the people think that they did it because they wanted to, and then they get humiliated _again_. That's what I'm most afraid of. Out here. Being…" I couldn't make myself say it, and a traitor tear edged its way out of the corner of my eye.

"Eloise, look at me… look at me!" Joe said firmly, and I tore my thoughts away from that dark place and gazed into his brown eyes. He almost looked angry in this light, the shadows casting harshly against his cheekbones. "I'm not going to let that happen to you," he said, pulling me into his chest. "If somebody even dares to touch you, I'm gonna cut their fucking hand off." I laughed a little at that, even though I was still panicking. "As long as you're with me, you're gonna be okay."

My adrenaline slowed down, and my heart quit pounding in my chest. "Okay," I said, suddenly exhausted. "I'll stick with you. You're gonna be sick of me by the end of all this, though," I joked, smiling when his arms tightened around me.

"You're not going anywhere," he said sleepily, planting a kiss on the top of my head. We breathed in and out for a moment, before he shifted and I knew he was going to speak.

"Earlier today, with the little girl..." he began, and I looked up at him curiously, surprised to see him blushing. "You, uh... you looked good," he finished, shrugging. I laughed through my nose, but smiled up at him. "Are you saying you like the picture of me with a baby in my arms?" I joked, but from his expression I could tell that I had hit the nail on the head, and I giggled.

"Well, I'm glad you do. That's something we have in common," I said cheekily, and he pulled back to look at me hopefully. "And I plan on having a lot of babies when I get out of here," I whispered, winking up at him. Joe just shook his head and chuckled to himself, squeezing me to him. "That's definitely something we have in common," he remarked, and I kissed him gently, the ghost of a smile still on my face. He tucked me under his chin and I snuggled in to his collar, completely content. This feeling of security was addicting, and lulled us into a relaxed silence. I slowly fell into an exhausted stupor, drifting off to the sound of our breathing.

* * *

The next morning, we climbed aboard the tanks as the Brits carried us to wherever we were going next. I sat beside Web as he tried to write in his journal against the bouncing of the tank, swearing softly to himself whenever a bump made his letters scatter across the page. The purple and yellow wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze as crickets chirped in the sunshine of the beautiful day. It was hard to believe this gorgeous place was a war zone.

We rolled slowly past the power lines, and I looked down at a little blue sign that announced our arrival into Nuenen. "Vincent van Gogh was born in Nuenen!" Web exclaimed, the joy that only an avid learner can understand spreading across his face. I smiled back at him, sharing his excitement at seeing my textbooks come to life. "Yep, so what?" Cobb grumbled crankily, ruining the mood. I had to suppress an urge to shove him off the tank. "Sure teach you a lot of useful stuff at Harvard!" Hoob called out jokingly, and Web grinned back at him.

I grinned too, but it was soon wiped off my face as I looked forward down the road. My heart stopped as I spied one of the women from the town, her shorn head gleaming in the sunlight as she cradled her baby to her chest. My heart twisted painfully at the sight. "Web, give me a ration box," I asked him, and he handed me one out of his pack as I leaped from the tank and landed unsteadily on my feet. Shaking it off, I walked towards her quickly as she took in my appearance warily. I removed my helmet and swung my braid over my shoulder, approaching her with wary eyes.

I didn't care whether she had done what she did voluntarily or against her will. I didn't care that she had been ostracised by her community and her town. She was alone, and vulnerable. I sat my pack down and pulled out an extra blanket, handing it to her along with the rations box. "Here," I said softly, and she took it carefully, arms already full with her child. I tried to think of something to say to her, but before I did, she looked up into my eyes and gathered me into an embrace.

I hugged her back. The baby wailed between us, and I backed off slowly, watching as grateful tears formed in her eyes. "_Es tut mir leid_," I said, my little bit of German coming in handy. She just nodded, and I backed away slowly, waiting for her to collapse and break down, but she didn't. She remained strong, and began to walk back towards Eindhoven.

Web helped me back up onto the tank. "What did you say to her?" Bull asked, removing his cigar stub. "'I'm sorry'," I said slowly, trying to hide the emotion from my voice. "I told her I was sorry. No one deserves that." No one argued with me.

The tanks quickly doubled up as we approached the little town. I jumped off the side of the tank and onto the gravel road, adjusting my pack as I landed. Lieutenant Brewer walked out in front of us, fiddling with his binoculars, a terrifying distance away from the safety and coverage of the tanks. "Get a load of General Patton!" Hoobler yelled jokingly. "Oh, what the hell is he doing?" I heard Cobb complain, and Hoob shrugged. "He's making himself a target!"

I stood a little straighter, anticipating anything and everything. Bull glanced down and noticed my tense form, and I nodded at him with serious eyes. Bull leaned forward. "Lieutenant!" he yelled, and as soon as Brewer turned around, the ringing shot of a sniper's rifle brought him to the ground.

We dissolved into chaos, and I found my mind going to that strange, fuzzy form of autopilot it always switched to during combat. The boys dashed into the ditches as soon as they saw a German tank speeding towards the town, and began opening fire as soon as our Shermans began to decimate it. Bull ran to the front to Brewer, who was clutching his neck. "Medic!" he screamed, and both another medic from a different company and I started towards him at the same time. A hand grabbed on to the back of my shirt, stopping me and pulling me down. I turned and looked at Joe, whose jaw was clenched, a determined gleam in his eyes. "No!" he said harshly, pulling me back down into the safety of the ditch.

"I have to go, Joe!" I yelled at him, trying unsuccessfully to pry his hand off my jacket, but he wasn't having it. "Keep moving, keep moving!" Bull's voice echoed over the sound of the fire, and I used the distraction as an opportunity to escape from his hold. "Eloise!" I heard him scream at me as I ran out into the open, but I didn't turn around. I just kept running towards Brewer, even when the first medic was shot down right in front of me.

I heard the shuffle of feet and I knew instinctively that the men were finally moving out. As I got to Brewer, he had his hands clamped down tight around his neck. "Sir, I'm here, I got you," I said firmly but with warmth, and he tilted his head back to look at me. I placed my hands on his neck over his clenched fists. "I'm going to need you to remove your hands," I said seriously, and as soon as he started to slip them out from underneath me, I clamped both of my hands down on his bleeding neck. Gene ran up beside me, out of breath. "You got Brewer? I'll get this guy," he told me, and I nodded. "Grab me a bandage out of the pack real fast, will ya?" I asked, and soon Gene and I had secured the gauze tightly around the lieutenant's neck, though he was still panicking. "Shhh, shhhh," I hushed him, laying my hands on his face. "You're going to be well. You'll be back to us in no time." He looked at me with wide eyes, and slowly his grip on my arm began to relax. "There you are, there you go," I cooed, and Gene stopped working on the other medic to stare at me blankly. "What?" I asked, eyes narrowing, but he just shook his head as the jeep arrived to carry both men off the line.

An uneasy silence landed on the both of us as the tanks rolled in to give the men support inside the town. "What the hell do we do now?" I asked, scanning the perimeter for the men, but they had all infiltrated past my line of sight. "I'm sure as hell not walking into that place unarmed," scoffed Gene, and we both looked at each other in a moment of rare perplexity. "Let's just get in the ditches and slowly move forward," I suggested, and he agreed as we scrambled down the embankment, inching our way towards the town.

Gene and I both flinched as we heard the sound of the first explosion. A fireball rolled up into the air as I inhaled sharply, grabbing onto his arm. "Kraut tank just hit a Sherman," he said quickly, and as soon as we had started to run towards the town, we heard Bull's distant cry of 'Fall back!' over the noise of the second explosion, hitting the side of a building and sending bricks and rubble flying. Machine gun fire opened up in earnest, and soon the town was enveloped in smoke and the screams of men. I raised up to run but Gene held me down.

"For fuck's sake, let me go in!" I screamed at him, annoyed at the way nobody wanted me to do my job today. "Did you not hear them say 'fall back'? We're retreating!" he yelled back, angry that I was angry. "They're still getting hurt in there!" I said, fight slipping out of me as I realized the hopelessness of it all. "Oh Go, Gene, we have to do something, we can't just sit here!"

But we didn't have to for long. As the men came running towards us, some dragging the wounded, a call of 'Medic!' came from nearby. Gene and I looked at each other for a moment before we nodded in agreement and split. I rose up out of the ditch and onto the road. "Carry all wounded towards me! Follow me!" I called and ran down the road as fast as I could, dodging artillery and stray bullets. I had to find a safe place to put the wounded, without getting shot myself. The men caught up to me as I steadied myself behind a bend in the road, safely away from enemy fire. "Here!" I shouted as they carried man after man towards me, and I went to work.

I patched them up as quickly as possible, and when the trucks came to carry the men away, I got a few men to help me hoist the wounded on the truck beds. "Thanks, y'all," I said wearily to Bill and Lip as we got Buck situated, who had also been shot in the ass. "Why is it always the ass?" I wondered out loud to myself, and I would have laughed if I had it in me.

"Lip, I don't think we know where Bull is, right?" I heard Bill say before walking off, and catching sight of Winters, who I followed as we hustled the men out of the town. I stared off into the distance next to him on the jeep, fretting about Bull. _He hadn't come back?_

"How bad?" Lew asked, coming to join us on the opposite side of the jeep. I walked over to him and put a hand on his back, trying to draw strength from him, and he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "I don't know yet," Winters replied, still staring at the town. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Ron quickly approaching us, and I looked back towards him.

Suddenly, a loud _ping!_ and a _woosh_ sped by my ear, and I screamed as both Lew and I hit the ground, still connected together. I landed hard on my shoulder, face-down as I heard both Winters and Ron yell and come running. I shakily drew myself up off the ground, my arms trembling feebly as hand snatched me roughly and dragged me away from Lew, flipping me over. I stared up into the terrifying eyes of Ron as I heard Lew speak, and tried to get up to see if he was okay, but Ron held me down. The stinging on my arm that I hadn't noticed before began to get stronger, and pain erupted everywhere. I knew that for the first time in the war, I had been shot; and indeed, as I looked down at my arm, blood was gushing everywhere. "Quit looking at me like that!" I heard Lew exclaim, and Ron snapped his head up.

"I'm taking her to the back, sir!" he yelled at Winters, and before I had time to process what was even happening, he dragged me to my feet and slung me over his shoulder. The world was suddenly upside down, and my arm throbbed unhappily, blood dripping down my hand a forming little drops off of my fingertips.

"I can walk!" I wailed, half out of pain and half out of embarrassment, but Ron just shook his head, his grip tightening around my waist and my feet. "What did I tell you about dashing to the front of the line?" he spat dangerously, and I gulped. "Did I not order you to stay behind with the men, Sergeant?" he yelled, and as we passed the first few trucks, and I didn't have enough energy to lift my head and see the reactions of the men. "Roe!" he screamed, his tone chilling my blood, or what was left of it, as most of it was running down my arm. "Sir," I said weakly, barely a mumbled. "I'm losing a lot of blood back here."

Suddenly, I slid backwards as Ron halfway stood me on the ground, then swept me up bridal style and ran forward. I felt bad for him having to carry me like this and run, but his arms never shook. I had a feeling he was trying not to look down at me, but all hell broke lose when we neared second platoon.

"Oh my God," I heard George say. "Doc!?" I tried to focus in on the boys but I had gone deliriously cross-eyed after being carried upside-down and couldn't make out any faces. Gene's hands met my face as he peered into my eyes, and glared at me. "You were fine five minutes ago!" he yelled, tying a tourniquet around the upper half of my arm. "I can't fucking leave you alone for five damn minutes!?"

"Sorry, Gene," I mumbled, and winced from the pain, whimpering a bit. I heard a commotion come from one of the trucks when I finally sensed the real storm approaching.

"Where the hell is she!?" Joe screamed, and apparently got his answer because the next moment he was skidding to the ground next to me, and cradled my face gently.

"You had to go and be a hero, I bet," he said bitterly, and I opened an eye. "No, I just got hit in the arm with a bullet, I'm okay," I said groggily, and writhed when Gene removed the tiny bullet from my arm. "Shit, ow!"

"That's what you get for being a complete idiot," Ron said harshly above me, and for the first time Joe appeared to acknowledge him, and rose up defiantly.

"Sir, she's no idiot, she was doing her job," Joe said defensively, and my heart beat fast as I anticipated Ron's answer.

"I disagree, corporal. I gave this woman a direct order to stay off the front lines, and the reason she's a casualty is because she disobeyed," he said in a low voice full of power, and I glared up at him, raising myself up on one arm.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was trying to help," I said bitterly as Ron cast his gaze upon me. Joe crouched down protectively and grabbed one shoulder, winding one arm around my waist to help me stand me up. "Don't yell at him, yell at me." Ron's inferno inside his eyes flickered briefly down for a moment as he assessed that I was fine, and then without another word, stalked off towards Dog Company. I pressed down on my bandage as I watched him stalk off, and rolled my eyes. "Pompous ass," I muttered under my breath as Joe and Gene helped me up into the truck.

"Damn, Sunshine," George said, shaking his head, but didn't say anything else as the rest of the company began to move out. I slumped against the side of the truck as Joe threw an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him, apparently not giving a damn about what anyone else saw or thought. The pain in my arm throbbed in waves, and I wavered in giving myself morphine, but I didn't want to do that in front of the men. Something about that seemed defeatist to me.

"Bull's missing?" I said quietly to Joe, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah he is," he said, glaring off into the distance, and then looked down at me with an intense gaze. "If Speirs ever manhandles you like that again, I'll break his arms," he muttered, looking murderous. I said nothing, but squeezed his hand around my shoulder gently. "I'm okay, I promise," I whispered, but he looked at me dryly. "That's your catchphrase, isn't it? Always getting hit, always saying you're okay. I don't care if you're okay or not, I'm still going to panic if I see you dripping blood," he said, and then scoffed. I stared off into the countryside for the remainder of the retreat.

* * *

That night, everyone rested in a constant state of expectation to hear news about Bull. I walked silently up and down the line, on one hand to check on the men, and the other to keep my mind away from the image of Bull lying dead in a field and the pain in my arm. I sat down next to Hashey and Garcia as he handed me a piece of bread, and I took it eagerly. I was starving.

"Lieutenant Brewer is going to make it," Garcia told me, and my heart lifted up for the first time that day. "Really!?" I exclaimed, a relieved smile forming its way onto my face. "I got to him after the other medic was shot."

"That's lucky," Hoobler said, looking at me gently. "The surgeon said the bullet was one inch away from hitting his artery, one inch!" He shook his head in disbelief. "They sent him home. Lucky, I guess." I stared down at my arm, my bullet wound an inch into my arm from the edge. If it had been an inch in the other direction, it would have been just a graze. I frowned.

"How is that possible?" Web asked, and my heart began to beat faster. I felt foolish, but I grabbed my journal from my pack, and hastily scribbled _'One inch from Lt. B's neck artery, bullet one inch into my arm...probably impossible'_. I felt idiotic for even thinking they were connected, by my instinct said otherwise.

Bill walked over to our group, nodding his head in my direction. "Hoob, any news of Bull yet?" he asked, and Hoobler shook his head silently. "If there ain't no body then there ain't nobody fucking dead! Understand me?" he said loudly, shaking his head at us. I just smiled at him comfortingly.

"I'm gonna look for him," Hoob said, standing up. "Not by yourself you're not, I'm gonna go with you, let me get some ammo," Bill said, walking off, and I sighed. "That's okay, I'll go," Hashey said, rising up with his gun in hand. "Me too," replied Garcia. "Alright," Bill said after a moment. "Go get him."

Web looked at the search party and back to me. "Alright, what the hell," he said, exasperated, but Cobb just sat on the ground and mumbled, clearly shell-shocked. I rose up and wandered, looking for Joe. I found him, half asleep in a freshly dug foxhole, and scooted aside as I nestled down next to him. "This day," I said drowsily, shaking my head. I never heard a reply, and then I was out cold.

* * *

My arm had seized up considerably by the next day. I was busy rubbing the tension out of the muscles when Johnny's joyous shout of 'Bull!' came echoing through the fields. Ignoring the pain, I got up and ran towards the men, who had all gathered around Bull's tall frame, smiling happily. I joined the ranks outside the circle, nodding over to Web and Hoob, and gave them a wink.

"Never did like this company none," he drawled out, and I giggled quietly. He ambled over my way, looking down at my arm with a raised eyebrow. "Shit, girl, you just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" he said, and I shrugged. "Sure I could, but that wouldn't be any fun, would it?" I replied with a straight face, and he ruffled my hair as I laughed. I walked with the trio towards the tanks, eyeing Bull's shoulder. That would need some work.

As we loaded into the trucks, I wrapped gauze around Bull's shoulder, looking back over the smoldering remains of Eindhoven. I guessed that there wouldn't be much celebrating there, and the feeling of retreat rested heavily in the pit of my stomach. But hadn't I always known the outcome?

I glanced over towards Joe, leaning back and soaking in the sunlight. I know I should tell him at some point, but it didn't feel right quite yet. I know he worried about me constantly, and I didn't want to give him another thing to worry about when there was nothing to do. I sighed and patted Bull on the back. "Alright, good to go," I said, and he nodded his thanks as he pulled his jacket back on.

I watched the grass and the road whirl past me. _It won't work, it won't work_, I chanted to myself in my head, scoffing about how true it was. _It **didn't** work,_ I corrected myself. _I told you_, the voice came again from out of nowhere, and I froze, my breath hitching in my throat. Hands trembling, I quietly pulled my notebook from my pack, and under last night's tentative entry, I scribbled.

_'I told you'._

* * *

**My hands are throbbing. In the sake of continuing the story with fully-functioning wrists, I must stop here. Next chapter coming soon!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm thankful for the men that sacrificed their lives for our freedom, past and present. My great-grandfathers were WWII vets - one stationed on the USS Oklahoma at Pearl Harbor and the other in the 82nd Airborne during D-Day. He landed safely and had to hide for hours from the Germans in a barn full of hay. He also happened to have Hay Fever, and repressed sneezes in order not to be found. The other walked off of his ship to go get a sandwich with his bunk mate right before the attack began. Both survived the war and lived to their late eighties and nineties, and I am proud to have known them. Seventy years doesn't seem like so long ago when you're writing about it, and temporarily living there in your head! So proud of these brave men. They taught us what true sacrifice means. **

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Oh, good God. OW!" I exclaimed as Gene slowly peeled the bandage off of my arm, taking some of my skin with it. "I think I'm going to throw up," I mumbled weakly as the stench of my wound wafted up towards my nose, sickly sweet.

"Or we could just cut the whole arm off, make it easier for me," he said dryly, and I laughed.

"A one-armed medic, that would be comical," added George, pulling the door of the barn shut behind him. He shivered a little and shook his head. "Brrr, getting a little chilly out there, wouldn't ya say, Doc?"

"I sure would," Gene replied, focused on cleaning the bullet hole despite my wiggling and hisses of pain. "What can we do for you, George?"

"Something's wrong with my foot," he frowned, and jiggled his right leg out in front of him. "I keep losing feeling in it, and the blood flow back into it is pretty painful. Been like that since Eindhoven, I guess."

"And you're just coming to us now?" Gene snapped, and I frowned. Ever since landing back in Europe, he had been getting progressively grumpier and spending less time around me or the men. It worried me, but I knew he had his reasons for doing things the way he did.

"Just take a seat and sit a spell while I get all good and wrapped up, and then I'll go and see about that foot of yours," I told him kindly, erasing the frown lines from his forehead, after-products of Gene's sharp words. He sat down on top of the table across from us, lighting a cigarette and watching Gene work in a daze.

It was pretty early in the morning for us to be up. I had awakened with pain shooting up and down my injured arm, and had poked a cranky Gene repeatedly to help me investigate. As he gently prodded into my arm, the men slowly tromped down from the hayloft, heading to the makeshift stove to brew up some coffee. Don came to investigate with his steaming cup, and I glared at both him and Gene as they stared with interest into my arm. "You know, my bleeding arm is not a spectator sport," I growled, but neither of the men payed me a lick of attention.

"Aha, I think I see it," Gene muttered, laying down his washcloth. "Malarkey, go over to my pack over there and grab me my tweezers, will ya?" I looked up at the word 'tweezers', and wearily gazed at Gene. "Please don't tell me…" I dropped off, watching his face morph into resigned determination.

"There's a shard of the bullet left in your arm, about the size of a splinter," he said, rolling his shoulders back. "We gotta get it out." Don came back with the tweezers and I groaned.

"It's too early for this shit today," I whispered, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. With a final nod, I offered my arm out to Gene, and he grabbed it firmly.

"Alright, now this is gonna hurt a bit," he said, and without warning he began to dig into my arm.

"Argh! Jesus, holy mother!" I yelped out, grinding my teeth together. I suppose my screams had finally roused Joe and Web, and as they scrambled down the ladder Web shot me a glare and went to go grab a coffee. Joe made his way over to us.

"What in the hell is going on?" he griped while rubbing his face free of sleep, but I could see real concern masked well in his eyes.

"Your girlfriend woke me up with her screeching, that's what," Web snapped grumpily, and I opened a pained eye at him. "Oh shut up, you baby," I growled out at him, and the boys laughed.

Gene stabbed deeper into my muscle and my body compulsively spasmed, not at all pleased at what was happening. I sucked in air through my mouth in what I hoped was steady breathing, but the looks of concern I was getting from the three men were not reassuring at all. "I almost got it, Eloise, I promise," he said, hand tight on my arm. "Liebgott, grab her other arm and keep her steady, will ya?"

Joe gently wrapped his hand on the upper part of my arm, winking at me slyly as he hopped up on the table next to me. His free hand rubbed circles on my back, and across the room, George snorted.

"Well this is sweet," he scoffed, a twinkle in his eye as Joe glared back at him. With deft hands, Gene dove in one more time and swiftly plucked something out, and I hissed in pain. He triumphantly held the little piece of scrap metal between the tweezers, holding it out for me to see. I looked over at my arm instead, and sighed when I saw the entirety of my arm covered in deep brown-red blood. "Ugh," I groaned, twisting my head towards Joe and screwing my face together. "God, that's nasty."

"Go get cleaned up," Gene commanded, moving towards George as I held my arm away from my body. "The spare bandages are in the closet next to my bunk." He waved me off, and I hopped down off the table and sent a look towards the men. "Anyone need anything while I'm out?"

"No, Ma, just stop bleeding everywhere all the damn time, alright?" Bill rolled his eyes, and the men laughed. I smiled to myself as I left the barn. The misty morning still clung low to the ground, and a few of the brass were stirring, riding in jeeps towards headquarters. If they were all gathering, that surely wasn't a good sign.

Soon my footsteps on the gravel road were joined by a crunching pair behind me, and I turned around to see Ron following me, eyes fixed on my arm. I was still very peeved about his behavior in Nuenen, and rather than being polite and waiting for him to catch up, I just tossed my head and made a beeline for Gene and mine's quarters.

I stomped in, and was not surprised to hear someone else following me into the downstairs parlor a few seconds later. We shared the house with Lew, Winters, Harry, and Buck, and I honestly hoped they had vacated the premises so they wouldn't have to hear me bite Ron's head off. Or that I wouldn't get in trouble for it.

I sighed audibly, and grabbed a bandage and sulfa packet out of the cabinet, then plopped myself on the kitchen table, ignoring the man standing in the doorway. There was a moment of tense silence where I simultaneously tried to contain the bleeding and rip open the sulfa with my teeth, failing miserably and throwing the powder on the table. Ron walked up and gently grabbed the packet, ripping it open and offering it to me with cigarette-burned fingers. I gave up on my pride and took it with a mumbled 'thanks'.

He shook his head, a small smile making its way onto his lips. "Always have to do it all by yourself, don't you?" he mumbled, and I glanced up at him from underneath my eyelashes. "Never can have any help."

"I do my best to be self-sufficient," I replied evenly, buffing the blood off of my skin, the sulfa packet balanced gently in my lap. "I just don't want to bother people." I had no idea why I was being so honest.

"You don't bother me," he said gruffly, and I snorted in disbelief. Still avoiding his eyes, I sprinkled the sulfa on my arm. "You coulda fooled me," I snapped.

"Are you referring to the other day when you threw yourself in front of a bullet?" he said scathingly, and I whipped my head up to retort, only to find him scowling at me.

"Firstly, I did not throw myself in front of a bullet," I snarked. "Secondly, you don't need to yell at my men if you clearly think something is my fault."

"Oh, _your_ men," he snorted, and that enraged me. "Yes, lieutenant, my men. Y'all may command them, but I save them," I said, completely serious, staring him down. When it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything, I just scoffed and returned to wrapping my arm up.

He was still standing there, watching me, when I jumped down from the table and went to wet a washcloth to wipe down the table. I had lost myself in scrubbing when he suddenly reached out and snatched it out of my hand. I bristled as he walked closer, hostility tense in the air. "And which one is _your_ man, sergeant?" he said carefully, his voice deadly. I refused to back down.

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think that's any of _your_ business," I said in disbelief at his gall. Right then, I knew what all the men had been saying about Speirs and I had been true. He was jealous, and it seemed his jealousy was just as vitriolic as his battlefield persona. "Remember when you said you wanted to get to know me? In France?"

I took his narrowed eyes as a yes. "You should have learned by now that I don't waver. In anything. I stay committed," I emphasized, glaring at him. "I'm going to be in the front, I'm going to stay with my men, and if I get hurt, then fine. It's in the job description." I slammed my pack down on the table, scooting it around my bad arm. "I'm sorry if you don't like that."

He was oddly quiet when I made my way towards the door, and I turned around to find his eyes glued to my frame. "You're going to get hurt if you keep following him around like that," he mumbled. "You're going to forget how to do your job."

I stood there as his words sunk in, cringing at the twinges of panic that prickled through my heart. Before I could say anything else that got me into trouble, I stalked off and slammed the front door closed. I tried to shake his accusations and words off, but I couldn't: they were true. If I kept being this blatant with Joe, people would talk more than they were, and I could lose my job. It would be Winters who would do it, even though Nix encouraged me and Buck saw it as a great game. I wrapped my arms around myself as I stalked back towards the barn.

* * *

When she returned to us at the barn, she had that one long line in her forehead that she got when she was especially upset about something. I paused my card game with Bill, Bull and Webb to watch her carefully as she slammed down her pack on the table, stomping off to grab some coffee. Bull glanced up at me from behind his cards and snorted. I refused to meet his eyes as I shuffled my cards. "What?" I mumbled.

"Son, your eyes are stuck on that girl like a fly on honey," he mumbled with a smirk and Bill coughed out a laugh.

I was done with the denial. If we were this far into the war, then what did it matter anymore. "Yeah, so?" I asked defensively to everyone's surprise. Web leaned back and looked at me in shock.

"Jesus, Lieb, we knew you had a crush, but we never thought you'd admit it," Bill said happily, his shit-eating grin spreading across his face. I just shrugged, setting my mouth in a hard line.

"Does she know?" Web asked suddenly, and I looked at him blankly. Bull looked between us in anticipation. "Well, does she?"

I considered telling them, but then decided to fuck with them. "I guess so," I shrugged, images filtering through of her slamming me up against the side of our foxhole, my hands sneaking up the edges of her shirt. I smirked and Bull chuckled in disbelief.

Just then Eloise walked by with her cup of coffee, leaning into the warmth. Her posture was slumped and exhausted, and I found myself fretting over her every movement like a mother hen. I scoffed silently. When did I get so soft?

"Hey, baby doll," Bill called out wickedly, and she turned around and rested her pretty green eyes on our group. "Yeah, darlin'?" she called out, walking over slowly and resting a hand on her hip. "What'd ya need?"

"Nothing, just wanted to know if ya wanted to join our game," he said, smirking over at me. She ran a hand through her loose hair, falling in waves around her face. "Sure, I'll sit with y'all for a bit," she said, and patted him on the back. Walking around the table, I was pleased to see she sat down next to me, but I noticed Bull raising an eyebrow at Bill.

She sat her cup down and sighed wearily. I laid a hand on her knee under the table, and she bumped her leg to mine gently in response. "You alright?" I asked, and she nodded tiredly but smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replied, looking over at the guys. "What about y'all? How y'all doing this fine morning?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm and a sprinkle of bitterness, and I knew something had happened between her departure and arrival at the barn.

"Very well, thank you," Web said snobbishly, using his correct college-boy grammar to show us all up. He slid a sly eye over to Bill and I narrowed my eyes. Here it came.

"So, girlie, I found out an interesting piece of news today," Bill said, shuffling through his cards and looking at me from behind his cigarette. Eloise dug around in her pocket for her pack and lit one of her own, taking a small drag as she wrapped a hand around her coffee. "Oh, yeah? What was that, Bill?"

"A little birdy told us that Liebgott over here's sweet on ya," Bull said slowly, trying to hide the laughter in his voice. I gritted my teeth together in embarrassment as Eloise took a sip of her coffee, looking over at me. The whole table went silent as we stared at each other, but only I could see the hesitation in her eyes. "Well, I don't know why you'd think that," she said slowly, as if surprised, and turned to leave the game. My mouth twitched as she put her cigarette back to her lips and fell silent, walking away.

Bill giggled as Buck shot him a perturbed look. "Tough luck there, eh Joe?" he asked sarcastically, and I had to sputter back to the present and away from my wheels in my head that were spinning out of control. "Yeah, whatever," I growled at him, and Web's eyes flickered back to Eloise's retreating shadow as she stepped out of the barn, her back rigid. Something was very, very wrong.

* * *

Later that night we were relaxing in the barn, and I was organizing my kit and petting Floyd's new dog, who had shown up hungry on our doorstep one afternoon. He was a beautiful German Shepherd, and I found myself missing my farm dogs back home. I scratched him behind the ear, and he licked me on the nose. Tab laughed at my scrunched expression before going back to cleaning his gun.

"This is a hell of a dog, Tab," Luz remarked, feeding it a biscuit from the K-rations boxes. "Thank you," Tab grunted as he threw the stick across the barn for the dog to fetch. I settled in next to George as I counted my bandages, humming to myself happily.

"What'd you call it, Tab?" Winters asked. "Trigger," he replied, and George crunched into a cracker. "That's good, I like that," he mumbled while chewing. "Got anything on this?" Tab asked, pointing towards George's radio. "Nah, it's all quiet." And then the doors slammed open.

I jumped to my feet, startled as I recognized the familiar silhouette of a man being carried from battle. "We've got penetration!" someone shouted as they entered, and I grabbed my kit behind me. "Alley's hurt, we need the Doc!"

"Get him on the table," I said, running over and sweeping everything off of it with my arm, cups and spare ammo clattering to the floor. Trigger was barking somewhere in the background as we made space for Alley, who was covered in blood. "Lip!"

Lip jumped down from his perch in the hayloft as someone ran to get Gene. "Look at me, Alley, look at me," he cooed gently as Alley grumbled from the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Joe had also been hit, and my stomach dropped. I paused momentarily, mouth open and staring at the blood on his neck as I panicked. "Eloise, get over here!" Winters barked at me, and Joe met my eyes. I immediately understood the fear that he felt every time he saw me injured, and I swallowed dryly as he nodded at me.

I ripped off Alley's shirt, seeing the two bullet wounds in his torso and neck, thankfully not too deep. I went straight to work, leaving his legs for Gene. "Where was it?" Winters asked Joe. "Crossroads, where the road crosses the dike," he said, pressing a bandage to his neck. "If it wasn't for you and your loud mouth they would have never known we was there," one man said, and Joe took the bait. "Hey you know what Joe, back off," my Joe replied, and I rolled my eyes as I gently poured sulfa powder into Alley's wounds. "Send a runner for Lieutenant Welsh, Lipton assemble me a squad," Winters said, and dashed off to get his gear. "First squad!" Lipton called, and turned to me desperately as Gene ran up. Alley was still whining and panicking underneath us as I tried my best to stop the bleeding. "Eloise, do the thing where you calm them down, will you?" he asked, and I looked up in confusion. "What?" I said, and Lip waved his hands desperately as he backed away. "You know, where you put your hands on their face and they calm down!" he yelled, running out of the barn.

I knelt down and leveled myself to where Alley could see me, and smiled at him softly. Gene went to work directing the men to take care of his legs as I put both of my hands on the side of his face. "Hey, darlin'," I murmured at Alley, and his distant eyes settled on me as he fought the blood loss.

"Are you an angel?" he asked slowly, and behind me I heard Joe snort. I ignored him as I wiped the blood from his face. "No, _mon cheri_, it's just me, Eloise," I grinned despite myself. Alley's breathing began to go back to normal as Gene finished patching him up behind me, and ran out the door to get an ambulance. A warm hand rested on my back as Joe walked around to peer worriedly at Alley, who now had grabbed my hand.

I pulled out a morphine syrette from my pocket, and smoothly pricked Alley with the needle and clipped it on his jacket. His eyelids fluttered as he finally relaxed, the tension leaving his legs and grip loosening slightly. "You're gonna be fine, I got you right here," I said, and with a nod he passed out.

I turned to Joe. "Now let me see that neck of yours," I said, hands itching for an excuse to touch him and make sure he was okay, although he had bandaged it up quite well. He slipped an arm around my waist, and I realized that apart from a passed-out Alley, we were alone. "I have to go join the squad," he said, resting his forehead against mine, and my hand gripped his lapel. "I don't want to let you out of my sight," I said in a shaking voice, eyes wide with fear. Joe just smiled. "Now you know how I feel when you get hit. I'll be back soon," he promised, and dashed away into the night.

I shook my head, and turned back to Alley, trying in vain to make him more comfortable in his sleep. "I saw that," Gene's voice echoed in the doorway and I jumped, pressing a hand to my heart. "Oh, Jesus, Gene, I thought you were someone else," I gasped, and let my hands drop to my side. He regarded me carefully. "You're very jumpy lately, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it is. Um...I'll stay here until the ambulance comes," I said, closing my eyes wearily. "You want me to hang back while you go out there with them?"

"Yeah, rest that arm up," he said, shouldering his pack and walking off. "I'll radio if I need help."

* * *

While I waited, I slept. And while I was sleeping, I dreamed.

It was cold. So very, very, unbearably cold. I looked down to find that I was shoeless and wearing a blue summer dress in the middle of a dark forest, with no light except the harsh white snow that piled around my ankles and drifted down from the treetops. I shivered violently, and wrapped my arms around my chest to try to stay warm. What was this place?

Suddenly, from within the trees around me, the familiar shuffle and crunch of multiple pairs of feet on snow echoed en masse towards where I stood. I looked up to see men walking towards me from all directions, heads down and hands shoved deep within their grey coats. _Germans._

I didn't know whether to scream for help or try to run, but I found myself quite literally frozen to the spot, snow now up to my calves. As they got closer, they began to lift their heads and look towards me. The first one to reach me stopped within three feet of where I stood and looked me in the eyes.

His skin was blue, stretched taut against the protruding cheekbones in his face. His eyes were clouded over, the same familiar element of the dead from my last nightmare before D-Day. I felt dread puddle in the bottom of my stomach. _Oh, please, not again._

I couldn't move, I couldn't make a sound. The German dead gathered around me in a circle, all staring at me curiously, sadness carved into their frozen faces. One by one, with cringe-worthy creaks and the snapping of icicles, they raised their arms and pointed towards the sky, looking up with stiff necks. I found myself gazing up into the dark night, until a flare flew up above me and exploded, bathing me in a harsh white light. I stared up at it, the dead around me beginning to speak.

"_Vorsicht!_" they whispered on the wind, voices like branches rubbing together in a swaying tree. "_Vorsicht!_"

And then, the familiar whistle of incoming artillery, and the woods around us exploded into fire.

I awoke to my own screaming, curled up in the corner of the barn on a pile of hay, with Trigger licking at my face worriedly. I couldn't tell whether I had been crying or whether it was dog slobber, but my breath came in great heaves as I processed the dream. I knew what was about to happen, and I stumbled towards the barn doors and supported myself against a tree outside as my stomach emptied, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes along with my heaves. I hyperventilated as I looked wildly around me, a chill of winter on the breeze. Something terrible was coming.

I stumbled back into the barn, and collapsed on the hay as Trigger came to rest next to me, whining and frightened at my behavior. I placed a shaking hand on his back. "Good boy, Trigger," I mumbled weakly, grabbing for my pack. "You're such a good boy, sweet thing."

Trigger seemed placated by the sound of my voice, and nestled in right next to me, laying his head on my lap. I patted him distractedly as I pulled my journal and the stub of my pencil towards me.

'_October 1944, Holland - Nightmare. Dead Germans in snowy woods. Flare in the sky. Artillery explosions. Whispering something to me that started with a V, or a W. Not sure. Not a good sign._' I laid my pencil down and stared at the page. I was slowly accepting the fact that these occurrences were not random nightmares, or superfluous feelings. They were important to me and the men. There had to be some truth to them.

Trigger sighed in my lap, and I leaned my head against the wall of the barn. Dawn was coming, and no one had woken me yet - Easy must be in good hands. I drifted back into an uneasy sleep as my exhaustion took over.

* * *

**I know, really, really short, but the next chapter is going to be pretty great! Working on it as we speak. Y'all rock, as always. Let me know what you think!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Super-important announcements: **

**1. I've decided that this story is going to be a trilogy, because it has taken on a life of its own and run rampant through my noggin. I've nearly planned it all out, but I'm not telling y'all a thing. Just prepare yourselves - there will be feels. **

**2. Your comments = gold. Super special thanks to Erikah, who said (and I quote) 'Probably the best thing I have ever read on the internet', which is the best compliment I've gotten since my friend told me I had really pretty hair. It's the little things in life.**

**Okay, enough of that. Enjoy!**

* * *

The crunch of footsteps on gravel brought me back to my senses, and I slowly raised my head from where I had curled myself around the makeshift stove in the middle of the barn. The coffee was still brewing, or as close to brewing as one could get, and I took it off the fire gently and walked out towards the doors, smoothing down my flyaway hair.

Joe marched a group of Germans, all with their hands behind their heads, to Battalion. His deep frown and the blood spattered up the side of his neck told me all I needed to know about the result of Easy's assault at the crossroads. As I stepped out into the light, the prisoners all stopped walking and went wide-eyed at the sight of me, and Joe grew furious. "What's the hold-up, Krauts? _Schritt vorwärts,_" he began to shout in German, but fell silent when he saw me. I smiled quietly at the soldiers and walked to meet him in the middle of the road.

I had meant to ask him about the end result of the battle, but my eyes glued to his neck, now freely bleeding and more red than white. "Oh Jesus, Joe, your neck," I said quietly, a hand clutched to my heart as I cringed from the sight of it. "That has to be taken care of as soon as possible."

He shrugged, clearly bothered but trying to put on an air of nonchalance. "I got to get these to Battalion first," he said, and I examined the soldiers carefully. They were all openly staring, and I began to see Joe's irritation show. The one in the front, a kind-looking man with blonde hair and green eyes, had a nasty gash across his forehead and eyebrow, no doubt the end result of a grazed bullet. A few others were bleeding heavily, all grimacing in pain. I frowned and looked towards Joe.

"Do you think Battalion would miss these men for a few minutes?" I asked, worried. "They don't look good, I especially want to patch up the one with the facial wound," I pointed at the man, and he took a step back, looking frightened.

Joe looked at me like I had gone insane. "Are you being serious right now? These are SS, so what if they're in a little pain?" I just stared at him, not amused. "You don't have to worry about their well-being, but I do," I said roughly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Geneva Conventions, and all that." I waved my hand flippantly in the air, and Joe sighed. "I do not understand you one bit, but fine," he spat viciously. Pressing my lips together, I tried to be patient. I understood why he hated them, but surely he realized that this was my job, and there was no way to go around it. "I would be grateful if you helped me," I spoke to him frostily, adopting the demeanor of my upbringing, the passive-aggressive iciness of the southern belle than my mother had instilled in me since birth. The effect was immediate. Joe was taken off-guard, and shrugged his shoulders, wary eyes watching me. "Sure," he grumbled, swinging his rifle onto his shoulder.

My odd little group walked into the barn, and I plopped the coffee back onto the stove. "Would you tell them to sit, please?" I asked civilly, and Joe pointed to a bench on the corner. "_Sie sitzen alle da. Sie ist ein Sanitäter,_" he grumbled at the men, and the all sat down reluctantly. Some of them audibly groaned in pain, and I walked over to them, starting with the blonde man. I tried to dig up the German I had learned in basic training and in Aldbourne.

"_Wie heißen Sie?_" I asked him kindly as I got out my kit. Joe sat behind me on the table, rifle pointing out towards them as he smoked a cigarette. "_Dieter,_" he replied, with a twinkle in his eyes. "_Schön, Sie zu treffen,_" I replied, and I heard Joe snort behind me. I rolled my eyes, and glanced backward. "What, Joe?"

"Didn't know taking prisoners would land me in the ladies' luncheon," he said snarkily, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"They're human beings, okay? Just like you and me, so back off," I hissed, and he threw his rifle down.

"I didn't sign up to hear you express your opinions, I signed up to fight a war against _Krauts,_" he yelled, pointing a finger at the prisoners, who stared back angrily. My blood was boiling in my ears when Webster suddenly walked into the barn, and Joe fell silent.

He took a moment to look between Joe's pointed finger and red face and my defensive position in front of the prisoners. "Is everything in here okay?" he asked, knowing full well it wasn't. "Everything's fine, Web, some of us are just a bit touchy today," I replied snarkily, glaring back at Joe. "Oh screw this, I have better things to do than to sit around and watch you make friends with the same people that shot you twice," he growled, and before I could get another word in, stormed out of the barn and into the morning, cursing all the while. Web and I looked at each other in surprise for a moment, before a throat was cleared behind me.

"Excuse me?" a soft, heavily-accented voice inquired, and I looked to see Dieter raising his hand imploringly. "Are we being taken to the headquarters?"

"You speak English?" I asked incredulously, and he nodded while the others muttered to each other. Web came and stood beside me as I shook my head. "Why didn't you say that sooner?"

"I didn't want to be interrogated by that man," he replied, shrugging. "Well, would you help me, then? I want to get all of you taken care of before I take you to Battalion."

"Yes," he nodded slowly, and I quickly went to work, clearing out his head wound and wrapping a bandage around it while Web talked to the other soldiers in German. Dieter's eyes watched me carefully with every movement.

"What is your name?" he asked suddenly, and I looked down. "Sergeant Eloise Saylor," I replied. "From Vicksburg, Mississippi." He smiled. "Vicksburg, that's a German name," he remarked, and I smiled. "And why are you here?"

I frowned. "I'm a field nurse, I take care of the men in battle when they are wounded," I replied carefully, not giving anything away and Dieter laughed. "_Nein, _I mean, why are you here? What is your purpose in this life?"

No one had ever asked me that before, and I looked at him bemusedly. "How very Nietzsche-esque of you," I joked, but considered the question. "I'm here to escape an arranged marriage," I said, and across from me Web whipped his head towards me. I had forgotten that that minor detail about my life was not common knowledge. In fact, only Ron and Joe knew, and now Web and this German prisoner, I guess.

"That is a good reason to run away," Dieter said approvingly as I finished his dressings, moving on down the line. One man shouted out towards him, and the others chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "What did they say?" I asked, watching the now-relaxed prisoners look appreciatively at their tended injuries and at me. "They want me to tell you that they think you are very pretty," he said dryly, and behind me Web laughed.

I looked down at my dirty hands, blood caked into the fine wrinkles and creases of my knuckles, staining the beds of my fingernails red. "_Danke,_" I said, laughing in disbelief. "Please tell them I'm usually cleaner." The men laughed as Dieter spoke to them in German, and I smiled to myself.

I looked over at Web as the coffee pot whistled on the stove, and pursed my lips together. "I know we ought to get them back to Battalion, and I know they're SS, but…" Web held up a hand, stopping me in my rambling. "But you want to serve them coffee and be a good hostess. I guess it's okay, as long as you look at my leg while they enjoy themselves," he bargained, and I nodded. I turned to the soldiers, fishing out a spare pack of Lucky Strikes from my bag. "_Kaffee und Zigaretten?_" I asked the men, and eager voices shouted out '_Ja!_" as they queued up for their coffee.

"If I had know that this was waiting for me in enemy territory, I would have been captured long ago," Dieter remarked cheerfully, and I laughed. "Yeah, well, some of us aren't as nice as our Princess here," Web commented, nudging me with his shoulder. "Like that angry man who took us from the battlefield," he acknowledged, and Web and I shared a look. _That angry man._ I didn't like the sound of that.

"I thank you for your kindness," he said as they had finished their coffee and Web was about to take them back to Battalion. Dieter took my hand and raised it to his lips, then saluted me, clicking his heels together. "I shall not forget it."

"You're welcome," I replied with a small smile, walking with them out of the barn. "Web, take good care of them, okay? Don't let anyone hassle them," I called out worriedly as they marched down the road, and Web winked. "Will do, alright? I'll tell Joe to come back to get his neck fixed if I see him, okay?" I nodded and waved as they disappeared from sight.

_And they said the enemy was heartless. _I scoffed to myself as I gathered the empty cups. The Germans probably said the same thing about us.

* * *

I heard him enter the barn before I saw him, mostly because he had tried to enter quietly but had knocked over a box of ammo. "Shit," he said, cursing as it all clattered to the floor. In another light, I would have laughed, but laughter was the furthest thing on my mind.

"Sit on the table, I'll be with you in a minute," I said coolly, staring into the fire of the stove as I propped my foot up against the base, enjoying the heat in what was slowly becoming a chilly atmosphere around me. _Figuratively_ and _literally_, I thought tartly to myself as I heard Joe plop down on top of the table gracelessly. He was one of those men who liked to be extra rough on objects when he was angry, just to hear the noise and be satisfied with his internal rage. He slammed his rifle down and let his pack fall to the floor with a loud _thud_, shattering the peace completely. I got up and rolled my eyes behind his back, gathering my medical equipment.

"What happened?" I asked, settling down on the table next to him as he turned away, not meeting my eyes. "I got grazed last night, then today I hit it in combat and it started bleeding again," he mumbled. I nodded as I peeled back the bandage and inspected the damage beneath. "Yeah, this looks familiar," I muttered, remembering D-Day and my own bleeding neck. I'm sure he remembered it too, but he remained silent.

I told myself that his reticence would not affect my work, and began to clean his wound, losing myself in my thoughts. The nightmare still bothered me, and as I dwelled upon it, the missing word suddenly popped into my head. _Vorsicht_.

"What does _vorsicht_ mean?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence and startling both of us. He turned back to look at me with no expression other than boredom on his face. "Why? Did one of the Krauts say that to you during your tea party?" he asked viciously, and I scowled, cursing Web and his big mouth. "No. I heard it in a nightmare," I replied in a cutting tone, and his attitude changed immediately.

"You had a nightmare?" he asked, voice still distant but less hostile. "When?"

I let the question hang for a minute before I finished putting sulfa on his neck. "Last night, when y'all were gone," I replied tiredly, unrolling a bandage. "I was alone, except for Tab's dog. It's nothing." I didn't feel like sharing with him today.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, concerned. I exhaled slowly. "Well, I thought about it, but then I remembered you didn't sign up to hear me express my opinions," I said, suddenly dejected and feeling a little hurt. I hadn't wanted that comment to get to me, but no one had been that mean to me while I was in the airborne. I suddenly felt like a teenage girl. "Frankly, Joe, there are a lot of things you don't know that I think you should, but I'm not quite sure I want to tell you anymore."

"Are you serious?" he asked, anger flaring up again as I walked off to burn the old bandage. "You really think I don't care about you? I thought you could see past my bullshit, but I guess not." He scoffed and suddenly, I didn't feel like being so nice anymore.

"Fine, Joe, you really want to hear it?" I snarled, turning on him. He stood his ground as I marched forward. "Fine. Let me tell you all about me. I think I'm going insane, no, forget that - I _am_ going insane, because I keep dreaming and hearing things that tell me how events will turn out for us, and they keep getting it right, so there's one! So while I have to patch all of y'all up, I'm also writing down all of this _shit_ that flies through my head that I have no control over, so there. And dead people like to come and find me in my dreams, so that's comforting. And I guess you should know about Speirs, too, since this is apparently confession time." His eyes narrowed when I said Ron's name, a bright red flush rising up his face. "Oh yeah, it turns out all of the men were right about him. I thought he just wanted to be my friend, until he cornered me while I was trying to fix my arm up and basically yelled at me for being me, then threatened to tell the brass about us, which could get me kicked out," I hissed, a lone tear streaking down my face. Joe watched it, but said nothing. "And now I'm worried sick about you, because I have no idea why you're so _angry_ all of the time, and I want to help you, but I don't even know how to help myself." I wiped the tear away roughly with the sleeve of my jacket, and held my arms down to my sides as they trembled from my outburst. Joe just stared at me, breathing hard.

"And people think there's something wrong with _me_," he said nastily, and I felt my mouth go slack. I covered my mouth with my hand out of shock, my heart throbbing as if he had literally stabbed it. He thought something was wrong with me. He thought I was crazy. He thought I was a _freak_. On the last realization, the dam broke in my eyes and the tears began to come forth in earnest, and Joe's facade cracked a little. I took deep, ragged breaths as I tried not to hyperventilate, grabbing my things and shaking my head back and forth. I ducked my head to walk past him, but I saw his hand rise up towards me as I strode away. "Wait, Eloise-"

"_No_," I stopped, and turned around, completely hysterical and losing control. "No, really Joe, _thank you_ for your honesty," I snapped, his distraught appearance winning no pity from me. "It's saved me from wasting a lot of time." I hurled myself into the night, not giving a fuck if anyone was watching me as I broke out into a run towards my quarters. It was silent outside, and my breathing came under control as I steadied myself against his words. _He's cruel because he can be, but you're better than that_, I told myself reassuringly, drying the last of my tears. I entered the house quietly, checking my face in the mirror that hung on the downstairs foyer. Apart from my bloodshot eyes, there was no indication that I had just had a breakdown, and I sent a little thanks towards heaven for that.

I entered wearily, glancing over at Harry and Buck relaxing on the couch, dirt still smudged on their faces from earlier today. I dropped my pack on the ground and curled up in an armchair next to the fire, running a hand through my hair. "How was today?" I asked in a scratchy voice, and swallowed.

Buck shrugged, staring deep into the fireplace. "We got lucky. Took out two entire companies of SS, but we had twenty-two wounded. Dukeman was killed," he said in a low voice, blinking slowly.

_Dukeman_, I mused, biting my fingernails. I was never close to Dukeman, but that didn't mean that I wasn't sorry he was dead. "Did Gene do alright with just him and Spina?"

"Yeah, it all went well. We're pretty beat, but we're gonna be okay. I heard you made some friends," Harry said slyly, eliciting a laugh from Buck.

"Yeah, I did," I blinked slowly, no laughter left in me for this day. I glanced out of the window as the sun went down centimeter by centimeter over the treeline. "Not everyone was pleased, to say the least."

"Well, whatever you did worked. They gave good information, didn't need any sort of threat or anything. One just opened his mouth and began to speak in English, telling us where all the German garrisons are around the dikes," Harry replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Coffee and cigarettes, huh?" Buck asked, leaning forward and I nodded quietly. "I'll have to try that next time." Harry giggled and I cracked a smile despite my mood. I got up, brushing off my pants carefully. "I think I'm going to bed," I announced wearily, yawning loudly. "Before you do, Captain Winters is having trouble with a cough. I told him I'd ask you to drop by and give him something when I saw you next, he's upstairs writing reports," Harry said from the couch, slumping over when Buck got up and walked to the tiny kitchen.

"Thanks, Harry, I'll go right up," I replied, turning the corner to climb the stairs up to the briefing room. Creaking up the narrow wooden steps, I heard Lew's jovial voice and Winters' dry replies, and I smiled. I knocked on the door, and pushed it open when I heard Winters say 'Enter!'.

I walked in with a little salute to Winters, who smiled tiredly at me from behind his desk, up to his ears in paperwork. Lew was emptying a bottle of Vat 69 into his flask. "Still on the sauce, precious?" I asked him as I walked past, and Winters snorted. "I've always been on the sauce, honey," he said just as sassily, and I grinned. "Sir, I heard that you needed a little something for a tickle in your throat?" I walked towards his desk and frowned at the mountain of paperwork surrounding him. I didn't like the image of him being away from the men, away from us.

"Yeah, yeah," he said easily, leaning back. "It won't go away, no matter what I do." I reached out to feel his neck, but then hesitated seeing the confusion in his eyes. "Permit me, sir?" I asked politely, and he nodded while Lew laughed. "She won't bite, Dick," he said, and I turned around to give him a look. "Well, maybe not."

He was still laughing as I carefully placed a hand on Winters' throat, feeling lightly. "Goodness gracious, those lymph nodes, my my," I talked to myself as I diagnosed in my head. "You do have a cold, sir, but you're lymph nodes are quite swollen. There's no medicine for this, but I can whip you something up, a little down-home trick," I offered, and he glanced at Lew warily. Lew shrugged, looking over at me. "Can't see what harm it would do," he said, and I nodded.

"Good," I replied. "I'll get it to you first thing tomorrow, you just mix it with warm water and sip on it when you're doing something like this." I waved a hand towards the papers, and he rolled his eyes.

"By the way, Eloise, interesting tactic today with the POW's," Lew said seriously from behind me. "They seemed willing to talk after being with you, but I was confused - wasn't Liebgott supposed to be with them?"

"Yes," I said darkly, watching Winters glance over towards me out of the corner of my eye. "But he stormed off. Didn't seem to appreciate my effort to take care of the wounded, enemy or not. He's not exactly on my good side right now because of that." I scoffed and shook my head, walking towards the door. "One of y'all might consider sending a lieutenant to have a talk about attitude adjustments with him." I nodded towards Winters and Lew. "Good night, sir, sassy pants," I addressed them both, smiling when Lew scowled at me. "Wait, sergeant, for a moment, I need your opinion on winter clothes for the men," Winters spat out suddenly, and I hesitated in the doorway. "Uh, sure, sir, I can wait," I said, motioning towards Lew, but he rose up and pocketed his flask. "No, that's alright, you two have your little pow-wow, I'm off to bed," he said, and with a nod exited the office.

"Shut the door, please," Winters asked kindly, but my heart began to beat nervously anyway. "Look, sergeant, your vital to the company, everyone knows that," he began, and I lowered my gaze to the floor. "But I've been hearing a lot of talk about the interactions between you and Liebgott, and I thought I ought to warn you." He leaned forward and looked at me seriously, and I swallowed. "I'm not going to reprimand you because I have no clear evidence of any rule-breaking, but you have been noticed. And if I were you, I would be on my best behavior from here on out." He leaned back and rested his hands on his legs. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes sir," I said quietly, nodding seriously. So Speirs hadn't ratted me out...yet. Winters gestured towards the door. "You may go," he said casually, and I saluted before I took my leave. I trod wearily down the steps and past Harry and Buck to enter the medic's room. Gene was already snoring by the time I had dressed down and gotten into bed. The day had won, and I flipped over and entered an uneasy sleep.

* * *

It didn't take long for the other man to figure out there was something amiss between Joe and I. George Luz, of course, was the first person to notice when I walked into the barn the next morning. I forced myself not to look towards the corner where Joe was playing cards with Bill and Don while he flushed, but ignored me all the same.

George sat propped up on the table next to his radio while I checked out his troublesome foot. The strange thing was, nothing appeared to be wrong with it until today, when I checked the bottom and saw that a gigantic blood blister had formed. I dropped his foot and gagged audibly, unsure whether I was actually going to be sick or not. "Good God, George, that's positively vile," I couched out, trying to regain my composure and failing miserably.

"Thanks, Wheezy, making me feel a whole lot better over here," George said crossly as Don took a peek under his foot and had a conniption, slapping his knee. "Jeez Luz, how long has that been there? A couple of days?" George nodded his head solemnly.

"Then why in the hell did you wait so long?" I asked, hands on my hips. From across the room, Joe looked up to watch us, but I payed him no mind.

"I tried to lance it myself, but I think I accidentally stabbed my foot underneath and it hurt like hell, Doc Roe said it would drain out but it never did," he finished lamely, and I rolled my eyes. "There's nothing else to do, George, I just have to…" I swallowed hard, grimacing at the boil. "...pop it."

"Ugh," Don moaned, getting up and walking away from my makeshift operating table. "Can you please take that someplace else?"

"Fine, Malarkey, I'll cater to your sensitive stomach," I snarked, and the men around us laughed. I motioned for George to follow me to the attached equipment room where a few jeeps were parked, along with my stash of medical supplies and another long table. The entrance looked out towards my quarters, and I watched with interest as Harry and Buck exited holding what appeared to be massive quantities of silverware. Probably for Her Holiness Kitty Grogan.

I quickly lanced George's foot, both of simultaneously laughing our asses off and dry heaving when it finally popped, and I laughed so hard I began to cry. "Oh my God, George," I moaned, and he winked. "Better not say that too loud, or your boyfriend in there will get the wrong idea about what we're doing," he said jovially, and I tried to laugh along with him but it never quite reached my eyes. George frowned as I wrapped his foot up. "He is still your boyfriend, right?" he whispered, and I looked up at him with sad eyes, clutching his foot.

"We got into it yesterday," I mumbled quietly. "He said some pretty nasty things to me, George. I didn't know he could be that… _cruel_," I whispered the last part, my eyes tingling, but I refused to cry today. "He said he thought I was messed up. He thinks somethings wrong with me in the head. To be fair, it began because I was kind to the Germans, but he started it all. He wanted to hurt me. I just don't understand." I watched as George drew his eyebrows together, scowling at something in the distance. "That just ain't right," he muttered, shaking his head and jumping down from the table, grabbing his helmet. "He's a fool, Eloise, to fight with you, to be on the brink of losing someone like you."

I was flattered, but it didn't matter. My heart was heavy. "Thanks, George. Really, thank you for everything, you're one of the best friends I've ever had," I said quietly, and looked up to see him grinning at me stupidly. "You're welcome, Princess - let me know if you need me or anything. I'll gladly do some ass-kicking for you," he replied, settling his helmet onto his head and tipping the rim my way.

I smiled at his retreating back. "Did you have a nice heart-to-heart with Eloise?" Skip asked from the next room with sugar dripping from every word, and I rolled my eyes. Of course they could hear everything, or had been eavesdropping. I didn't care if they had heard what I had to say about Joe or not, I wasn't going to shrink away like a scalded cat and hide whenever he was around. My anger suddenly flared up, accompanied by a heaping surge of hurt. _Screw him_, I thought to myself. _I have better things to do_. But weren't those the same words he had said to me?

Those better things turned out to be wrapping up bandages. I sighed as I started the tedious chore, listening to the men in the other room chat and yell over cards. They had offered to let me play once, but after I had lost fifty dollars or so I realized that cards were not my greatest skill and stuck to the sidelines to watch the guys lose their money instead of mine.

Suddenly, a pair of commanding footsteps strode their way into the next room, and the men fell silent. My head snapped up as I heard the silence grow, and I peered curiously to see who it was. "Where's Sergeant Saylor?" Ron's voice rung out commandingly, and I felt my stomach bottom out. Oh, no. Not this, not today.

"She's, uh…," Don began, and I could see his pale face now, eyes wide with intimidation. "She's in the next room, sir." He finished, and I mentally prepared myself for whatever storm was coming my way.

Ron rounded the corner, eyeing me warily. I didn't say anything for a moment as he stood there, just watching me work, until I got sick of his silence. "How can I help you, sir?"

"There's a stack of mail for you waiting in the office," he began, and I nodded, confused as to why he was coming to tell me this himself. "Thank you, sir," I toned carefully, glancing around. He seemed uncomfortable as we both avoided each other's eyes. "Also," he said hesitantly. "I came to offer my apologies for yesterday, as my behavior was uncalled for." He took a moment to let this sink in, and then began again. "And, I would like to request your assistance in helping the other officers procure a 48 hour pass for Captain Winters." I nodded to myself, and offered a friendly smile. "I'll help any way I can."

He turned to go, but then stopped and turned back. "I forgot, I found this." He withdrew my coral rosary from his pocket, the beads clinking together as they swayed in his hand. My eyes widened, and I reached forward to take it from his hand. "It's been missing ever since we got here, where did you find it?" I inspected it closely to find that little splatters of blood now stained the once-pristine white coral. "Well, I saw it on the side of the road near the officer's quarters, so I picked it up for you. I had forgotten I had it until yesterday, but I kept it safe for you." He shrugged noncommittally, but I understood that a lot of thought had gone into saving and keeping my rosary. "Well, thank you, it's very precious to me. It's my First Communion gift," I said, twirling the beads between my fingers. "I could tell," he said stoically. "It is very beautiful, just like its owner." I stood there a little stunned as he looked at me levelly, then turned and walked out the door before I could say anything.

Nobody spoke for a full minute in the other room until I heard Skip whisper, "Holy shit. _Holy shit_!" The men began to chatter to themselves. I was too much of a coward to walk back in there and face them, face Joe, so I slipped out of the side of the barn and into the street. I shook my head as I entered my quarters to find Lew and Harry sitting downstairs.

As soon as I entered the room, they shared a knowing glance. "I see he found you," Harry said, pointing at my rosary, and I went bright red. Lew started to chuckle and rose up to come get a closer look, letting out a whistle. "I'll tell you what, Eloise," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "You have that man on the run if I've ever seen one. And not just any man, _Speirs_."

"That's like Jesus coming to take you out for a milkshake," Harry added lazily from his love seat. "It just doesn't happen."

"Yes, well, I…" I began, but then trailed off. "That's not how it is, at all, and I would appreciate you two not spreading any more rumors." I pointed at both of them, and they protested as I walked to my room and slammed the door behind me. Gene was sprawled out on his bed, and opened one bleary eye as I entered and threw myself across my bed, groaning into the mattress. "I know a lot of men who would pay good money to watch you do that," he remarked, chuckling to himself, and dodged the pillow I threw at him.

"Shut up, Gene!" I hollered, and closed my eyes, trying to push all of these men out of my mind.

* * *

Operation Pegasus went off without a hitch, and I smiled joyfully around me as the men of Easy blended in with the Red Devils, two of whom were currently singing me ballads and trying to woo me with multiple beers. I wasn't going to admit it was working, but there was something about that accent. I just kept giggling and enjoyed being the center of attention.

My reemerging into the company of the men had not gone quite as smoothly as I hoped after Ron's confession of undying passion. I had tentatively tried to sneak my way into the barn without being detected, but Wild Bill got to me first. "Oh, no ya don't!" he had yelled as my foot was in the doorway of the next room, and I had cringed before turning around and facing the group of them, feeling like a schoolgirl being scolded for dipping some other kid's braids in the glue.

They all stared at me openly, some bemused, some perturbed, some just openly shocked. "So, you want to explain to us what happened earlier today?" he asked as I walked into the light, blushing bright red.

"Not really, Bill, because I probably couldn't explain it if I tried," I replied, disbelief clear in my voice. My eyes sought out Joe, but couldn't find him in the crowd. Don snorted and shook his head. "If I were you, I would be terrified," he said to me, and I laughed, the men along with me, and the awkwardness evaporated from the air.

"I was, a little bit," I admitted, shrugging. "He looked frightening, but he meant well. We had a bit of an argument the other day where he said some things that were a bit unbecoming of him."

"And so he comes to haul you away on his noble steed with a stolen rosary," George said, and I threw my hands up.

"Look, George, if you want to make an offer, you could always line up behind him," I joked, and everyone chuckled. "Yeah, if I had a death wish," George snarked back, and the group dissolved. They later left to go retrieve the British men stranded on the enemy bank, and the party raged on.

"Darlin', you're too beautiful to be in a war like this," one of the men said to me as I blushed and rolled my eyes. "You should be painted on the side of a bomber!" the other one exclaimed, and I giggled.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need to borrow our nurse for a moment," I heard Lew say as he grabbed my arm, and I blew the two men kisses as I was dragged away, their complaints echoing above the noise.

"What's up, Lew?" I asked as he hauled me towards a corner, looking down at me nervously. "What did you tell Speirs the other day when he gave you that necklace?"

I rolled my eyes at the word _necklace, _but I thought back on it, and shook my head. "Nothing really important, just thanked him...why?" I asked nervously, my stomach twisting a little.

"I saw him amassing a huge pile of religious icons yesterday," he said, looking me directly in the eyes.

I just stared at him for a moment, all the words stolen from my head. "Oh… I see," I said slowly, not quite believing it. I was ever the Doubting Thomas. "That means…"

"Yeah," said Lew, eyes scanning the crowd behind me. "We have another one."

"I don't share," he said, pinching my cheek. "And neither does Speirs, or Liebgott, for that matter." He watched as the light slowly faded from my eyes when he mentioned Joe's name. "You don't need to tell me what happened, I already heard it from George," he waved a hand, and I cursed George Luz's name to the depths of hell.

I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself as he pulled me in for a hug. "What do you think I should do, Lew?" I asked, suddenly sober from my night of excitement.

He shrugged. "I've always thought you should pick me, always will," he said in a happy tone, and I just shook my head. "We'll see, you never know," I said, drawing back as he ruffled my hair. "What will be will be."

"I'm betting on me," he quipped, and walked back into the crowd as I scoffed to myself. I began to trudge slowly through the crowd and to the door, but before I could reach it, Joe walked directly into my path. He stared like a deer caught in the headlights, and I pursed my lips together and lowered my gaze to the ground. No doubt he probably regretted what he said, but I wasn't in the mood to pick a fight tonight. I walked past him silently and he let me go.

* * *

**EVEN MORE good things on the way! I'll update ASAP. Also let's all say a little prayer that 'Flawless abandon, Irrevocable Surrender' gets updated soon because I am DYING over here waiting for it. **

**ALSO SOMEONE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD help me decide between Liebgott or Speirs because in the meantime I'm over here casually banging my head against the wall because I love them both so much OH GOD HELP MEEEE.**

**That is all. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Finally have my mind made up, thanks to all you lovelies! Your insights were very helpful to me, and I know which way I'm headed now!**

* * *

It was Halloween. On a mission to stock up on more sulfa packets, I had stumbled across a giant crate of Hershey bars clearly meant for the brass, but as I cracked open the box, I figured they wouldn't miss fifty or so of them out of two-hundred. I walked quickly back towards the barn, pressing the bottom of my shirt into my stomach to hold the candy in my jacket. I scooted into the door, giggling with the thrill I always had when I got away with something.

Skip looked up from his perch on the hayloft. "What'chu got there?" he asked curiously, jumping down and prodding my jacket. I shoved him away with my free hand. "Help me clear off the table and I'll show you," I replied as the other men wandered over. As soon as there was a open space, I leaned over and unzipped my jacket slowly, the candy pouring out in waterfalls. "Happy Halloween!" I said jovially as Skip snorted and broke out into raucous laughter. Bill picked up a Hershey bar, grinning. "Never thought you'd be one to steal, Princess," he said, and I shrugged as the boys surged forward to grab a bar.

"I'll do anything for a thrill, Bill," I winked and walked over to where Lipton was standing, arms crossed in disapproval, but his twinkling eyes told me that I wasn't going to get in too much trouble. "What could I do, Lip?" I said as a greeting, smirking mischievously. "They were just sitting there, unprotected, unloved. That was like asking me to take them!"

"I'd steer clear of headquarters, if I were you," he said, leaning over and sniffing me. "You reek of chocolate."

"Better that than others," I said, beginning to walk off until Lip caught my arm, gently pulling me back. "Joe's looking for you," he said quietly, looking at me knowingly. News of our fight had spread like wildfire among the men, thanks to Luz, and the strange silence between us had stretched on so long that ignoring him had become normal for me.

It didn't mean that I had not missed him, however. On the rare times when I did glance his way, his refusal to look my way cut straight to the bone.

I looked at Lip stubbornly, then stared hard at the ground between my shoes as he sighed. "Come on, Eloise, I know he's sorry. His attitude has gotten worse and worse ever since the both of you stopped speaking, and Speirs isn't helping one bit." I opened my mouth to protest, and Lip raised a hand. "I know, you didn't ask for him to do that, but when you didn't turn him away, it said a lot. Whether you meant it or not," he finished, looking over my shoulder at the men slowly eating their chocolate. "Just...promise me you'll talk to him, okay?"

I nodded silently, and smiled up at him. "I will. If you see him again, let me know, okay?" I asked, and Lip opened his mouth to speak when suddenly in the night a fearful voice screamed 'MEDIC!'. I whipped my head around to see a scared private running into the barn. "I need a medic, now!"

I grabbed my pack and quickly ran with the man as we raced down the street towards the railroad, where I could see the faint silhouette of three men on the ground, Gene sprinting from the opposite direction. As I neared, I could see Winters and Harry on the ground, kneeling over someone I didn't recognize in the dark.

I skidded to a stop next to them a few seconds after Gene had arrived, and took the place of Winters' hands where they were pressed on the man's torso. In the moonlight, I could see it was Moose, Easy's new leader. "Oh, shit," I muttered as Moose writhed under my hands, blood slowly covering the ground around us. Behind me, I heard the ambulance drive up and Gene wrenched the back doors open. "I got 'em Harry," Gene said as he and Welsh lifted Moose onto the stretcher in the back of the vehicle. "Did you give him morphine?"

"I can't remember… two, three syrettes, maybe?" I looked up as Gene's jaw clenched shut and his eyes widened in anger. "Three syrettes, maybe? Jesus Christ, we're you trying to kill him!?" Gene yelled, trying to heave Moose into a more comfortable position. "You don't think it might be important to let me know how much medication the man has had, huh? Because I do not see one syrette on the man's jacket! It's a good thing he's a big man, maybe he'll stand a chance."

"He was in a lot of pain, Doc, we didn't know what to do…" Harry said, but Gene interrupted him with a pointed finger. "Well you oughta! You are officers, you're grown-ups, you oughta know!" And with that he hopped into the ambulance, without another word to poor Harry and Winters who stood there dumbfounded, as if Gene had just slapped them both in the face. Winters shut the doors and smacked on the back to let the driver know all was settled. I walked up next to them as they watched the truck speed off.

I ran a hand through my hair, only to recoil when I realized it was wet with Moose's blood. Gene had been right, but I felt bad for Harry - they were just concerned for their friend. Sighing, I turned on my heel and began to slowly trod back to my quarters. The night was silent, except for a few chirpings of a late-season cricket. And this night had started off so well.

* * *

The door to the house creaked open, the inside silent except for the fire that smoked and crackled comfortingly in the fireplace, orange light casting strange shadows off the furniture. I walked in, eye-half closed and rested my head against the wall. "Fuck," I mumbled, energy completely drained. I was sick of my hands dripping with other people's blood.

"You're telling me," a low voice called out, and I raised my head to rest my eyes of Joe, who sat in an armchair in the shadows next to the fireplace. All the anger I had after our fight had long been drained from my body, and in it's place there was left a dull ache of something ripped away from me, right in my soul. I slumped my body against the wall, pressing my cheek into the wallpaper. "Hi," I whispered, not quite knowing where to start.

Apparently, he didn't either. "You're covered in blood," he stated, leaning forward to stare at me, clearly concerned. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he was as white as a sheet. I looked down at my hands, and noted quietly that they were, in fact, drenched with Moose's blood, all the way up to the elbows. I nodded to myself. "Yeah… Moose got shot," I said, flexing my knuckles as the blood began to dry and make my skin stiff. "Do you mind if I wash this off?" I asked, holding my hands up, and he shrugged.

I walked over to the kitchen, sighing as I turned on the knob to hot and waited, testing the heat with a tentative finger. As I let my hands rest underneath the water, I heard Joe walk up behind me, sighing when he leaned onto the counter and watched as little rivers of blood swirl down the drain. "I'm sorry," he blurted out suddenly, and I looked up at him with hopeful eyes. "What I said to you was not… I didn't mean it, I just sometimes… well, there's no excuse," he said, crossing his arms and looking away. I knew he was proud, and I knew that was hard for him to say, even if it needed to be said.

"I forgive you," I said, picking up a bar of soap and sudsing it in my hands. "If you'll forgive me for all the shit that's happened since then. I was spooked mostly, because Winters gave me a talking to about fraternizing with the men." I watched him as I scrubbed under my fingernails. "So I got scared, and distanced myself. I also didn't ask for Speirs to do that, you know. I think he's gone a little manic." I laughed lightly but no smile graced Joe's face, and I was beginning to turn back to the sink when Joe's hand grabbed onto mine. He intertwined his fingers with mine, the soap dripping onto his hand.

"You have to tell him you're not interested," he said, staring at me with serious eyes. I nodded. "I know," I said soberly, squeezing his hand. "I will tomorrow. I didn't know at the time that allowing him to be friendly with me was almost a… validation to him." I frowned slightly, a crease forming in my forehead. "All I saw was...my pretty roasry," I said sheepishly, and to my surprise, Joe snorted.

"You can pretend to be Big Bad Medic all the time," he snarked, a smirk on his face. "But you are _such _a girl." He kept laughing, and when rolling my eyes and huffing didn't do anything to shut him up, I leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips.

I thought I had won until he wound his hand into my hair and slammed me up against the wall, entrapping me as I squealed through the kiss. He broke away from me with a frighteningly sly smile. "Careful there, sergeant," he growled in my ear as his fingers pressed into my hipbone, his free hand sliding down from my hair onto my lower back. "You may start something I can't stop."

"Joe…" I tried to warn him, but my words were caught in my throat as he started trailing kisses underneath my jaw. I swallowed and tried again. "Joe, we are in the _officer's quarters_!"

"Where you so conveniently have a bedroom," he breathed into my ear, pressing up against me. I moaned audibly, my head spinning with the sudden blood rush, feeling a little weak in the knees. I had some severe butterflies in my stomach, one part nerves and the other complete need, when I opened my eyes and saw him staring back at me, the same lusty blush rising up his neck. I wantonly grabbed his hand and half-dragged, half-marched him to my room. Thankfully noting Gene was nowhere to be seen, I locked the door behind us and shoved him up against it.

"You think you're the only one who can play dirty?" I whispered, kicking off my boots and enjoying the shock in his eyes. I unbuttoned his jacket slowly, sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor in a heap. I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him slowly, leaning into him and shivering with delight when his hand snaked down to grab my ass and pull me closer. My hands fisted in his hair and I gave a small tug, smiling as he groaned defeatedly. "Dear God," he hissed out. "Please do not force me out of here before I get you out of those clothes."

Despite my boldness earlier, I blushed bright red and he laughed as he grabbed my waist and pressed me back against the door and ripped my jacket off, throwing it off into the room somewhere. Not wanting to be outdone, I eagerly tugged his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground, running my hand over his chest. He didn't look like it from the outside, but underneath 'skinny' Joe Liebgott had some serious muscles. He closed his eyes as my hands ghosted over his shoulders and stomach, and I scattered little kisses down his neck and onto his chest. Suddenly impatient, I grabbed his hand and forced him down onto my bed and straddled his hips. "Fuck this," he mumbled, and grabbed the ends of my shirt, wrenching it off my body as I giggled. Not wasting a minute, he reached behind me and unhooked my brassiere, getting it off in one swift hand movement. I rolled my eyes as I thought about how many times he had practiced doing that until he had it down to an art. He flipped me underneath him as he stared at my body, mouth slack and making me flush even more. "Holy shit," he shook his head, settling his body over mine. "I think I hit the jackpot."

I reached down and grabbed his belt, leaning up to kiss him. "I think I did, too," I said, undoing his belt and sliding it through until it was free, and I threw it to wherever the rest of our clothes had gone. And then things just began to galvanize. Joe's mouth latched onto my neck as he kicked off his boots and tugged my pants off, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I wasn't aware I was making much noise until Joe clamped a hand down on my mouth, head whipping to look towards the door. I heard the voices of the other officers come into the parlor and I started giggling, feeling completely wicked and yet having so much satisfaction in sneaking around behind their backs. I pulled Joe's hand off my mouth as I launched another kiss on his lips and flipped him underneath me, and slowly started moving my hips against him as he let out a moan.

A fire suddenly took over in his eyes as he looked up at me intensely. "Enough of this," he growled out, and my heart began to beat in double-time as he wrestled me underneath him, and without warning his hands slid underneath the cotton of my underwear and stroked me suddenly. I gasped in a breath as his fingers found a sensitive spot, and he grinned devilishly as he settled in next to my ear. "You want to know what I think? I think you've been holding out on me," he whispered as my back arched a little and let out a little moan. "And I think you need to be taught a lesson."

I was already on fire, and having him whispering to me like that was just adding more fuel. "Joe," I pleaded to him, alien sounds coming out of my mouth. "Please."

"'Please' what?" he teased, and I heard the smile slip out of his voice when my wandering hand snuck past the waistband of his skivvies and wrapped around him. "Please... oh goddamn it, you know what!" I said, staring at him from under heavy lids weighed down with lust. I watched him toss aside my underwear, and laid there under his full inspection as he unwrapped a condom and rolled it on. Slowly, he hovered over me as I lifted my hips, and within a moment, I felt him slide into me.

The feeling was beyond compare, better than anything I had done with anyone else, better than anything I had fantasized. I grabbed Joe's back, dragging my fingernails down his sides as he moaned, pushing fully into me as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He tentatively rocked into me, and I cried out, biting him on the shoulder as I tried to stifle the amount of noise I was making.

Joe rhythmically thrust in and out, until I felt great waves begin to roll over me, and I knew what was coming. "Fuck, Eloise," he said through gritted teeth, and I knew he was close. "_Bitte_," I moaned in German, locking my arms around his neck as he picked up the speed, and my legs began to tingle. With one final movement, my body suddenly arched up, and I gasped for air as I temporarily forgot to breathe, eyes wide but seeing nothing as I came. Joe buried his face in my hair and grunted, fingers digging into my waist as he finished not long after me, and collapsed lightly onto the bed, breathing hard as we both held on to each other's trembling bodies. Slowly, he pulled out of me, and left behind a dull ache that I knew would have me limping tomorrow. I smiled lazily at the thought as I turned over on my side and ran a hand through his hair slowly, watching as he closed his eyes at my touch.

Opening his eyes, he smiled as he reached over a traced a thumb over my parted lips. "I like you like this," he murmured. "Cheeks all pink, lips swollen, hair in a mess, it looks good on you."

"I like that you made me look like this," I replied happily as he reached over and planted a kiss on me. "I wish I had lasted longer," he whispered as he scooted closer, wrapping an arm around my waist as I turned to the side, curling up against him. "But it's been a very long time… and you're a little overwhelming for me." I laughed as I reached down and threw the army-issued blanket over us. "All in good time, we'll just have to practice again...and again...and again…" I drawled as he nestled his face in my hair. "Yes, please," he muttered, and I sighed, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against me.

"There is one thing that bothers me," he said steadily, and I turned to look at him in confusion. He held my gaze as he took a deep breath. "You want to explain that nightmare to me? I'll be less of an ass this time."

I tried to smile but I couldn't. "Joe, it was…" I tried to find the right word, but just shook my head. "I was alone in this forest, with really tall trees and huge snow piles, no shoes on, just wearing a dress." He gripped my hand and placed tender kisses on each fingertip, calming me down as I tried to continue. "And these dead Germans, frozen blue, walked out of the woods and formed a circle around me, and pointed up towards the sky, muttering '_Vorsicht! Vorsicht!_'." I closed my eyes, remembering the chill of the wind and their voices. "And then the trees exploded."

"The _trees_ exploded?" he asked incredulously, and I nodded, covering my face with a hand. "It was awful," I whispered, shuddering. "Just _awful_."

He was silent for a moment, watching me carefully. "It means 'caution', or 'beware'," he said slowly, and I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. "But beware what?"

"Probably the exploding trees," I mumbled dryly, and he laughed and kissed my shoulder.

A knock sounded on my door, making us both jump. "Eloise, are you in there?" Gene yelled, pounding on the door some more. "I need to get in!"

"Uh, can it wait?" I called back, scrambling out of bed and trying to find my clothes as Joe hurried to put his on as well. "I'm having a little bit of a crisis in here, can you give me a minute?"

"No!" Gene hollered crossly, and I could just see his ears growing pink with frustration. "What's so important you had to lock me out?"

"I, uh," I yelled, grabbing the clothes Joe had tossed to me and threw on my jacket and pants. "It's my time of the month, alright?" Joe looked at me wide-eyed as I stifled a giggle and pulled him close, giving him a chaste little kiss that turned naughty when he smacked me on the ass. I squealed. Gene was silent outside, and I heard him let out a breath. "Fine, just let me know when you're approachable," he said through the door, and stomped off to the parlor where I heard him speak to Harry and Lew.

"You're going to have to go out the window," I whispered to Joe, and he looked at me incredulously. "Seriously? What is this, high school?" he griped as I shimmied the glass up, and stuck my head out, looking around to see if anyone was watching. "Yes, for the time being, it is," I joked, and kissed him as he climbed out. He hesitated as I drew away, and then pulled me back to him. "Thank you," he said, and I nodded. "And for the record, if Speirs tries to do something like what he did in the barn again, I will send rank to hell and I will kick his ass," he said seriously as he darted out the window. A second went by before he poked his head back through and grinned impishly at me. "Oh, and I love you," he added, and I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"I love you, too, you crazy man," I replied, and with a chuckle he was gone into the night. I shut the window back carefully and pulled the curtains, resting against the wall. I started giggling uncontrollably, biting my hand as I shook my head. We were both insane. Opening the door slowly, I crept into the parlor and peeked around the wall. The only man left in the room was Harry, who had a glass of cognac resting on the table. As I peered over the sofa, I saw that he was out like a light, mouth open and snoring gently. I tiptoe back into my room, and unlocked the door for Gene; I turned off the lights and curled up in bed, replaying the night over and over in my head.

* * *

We were shipped back to Mourmelon the following week, and enjoyed a pleasant month and a half of rest and recuperation before we were introduced to the Holy Terror, Norman Dike. Dike was supposed to be Easy's replacement commanding lieutenant, but I thought he looked like an overgrown ostrich that was plucked from West Point and shipped here to please his daddy. And as it turned out, I was right.

Dike was never around when you needed him. Whenever Gene and I tried to find him and inform him of Easy needing more medical supplies, he was always back at division headquarters, 'making a call'.

"Who'd wanna be talking to him, anyway?" Skip said scathingly one day as he walked away from us pointedly, switching his direction to avoid us. Penk laughed and shrugged. "I'd doubt he has a girlfriend back home," he added, and Toye scoffed. "He's probably not talking to anyone at all," he grumbled, and stomped off as I threw my hands in the air and walked away.

But that wasn't the worst part. Dike loved drills, and he loved to make Easy do them while he watched and nodded to himself importantly. On one of these drill days, Gene and I were walking past the boys while we transported new bandages to Dog Company. I walked by my men and gave them a nod in Dike's direction and an eye-roll, making most of them chuckle. Joe winked at me as I passed him, and I smiled knowingly as he quirked up an eyebrow and flicked a grenade on his jacket. I suppose we could adapt our old plan to get rid of Sobel to rid ourselves of Dike.

Gene just scowled as we walked away. "I don't like him," he muttered. "I don't think anyone likes him, but don't you let Lip hear you say that. He's all gung-ho about reverence towards rank, et cetera, et cetera."

"I just think he's living in la-la-land," he said as we set our boxes down. "Want to come by the mail room with me?" I offered, but Gene just shook his head. "No, I'm gonna go take care of some of my own business," he said, and walked away without a goodbye. Lately, he was becoming more and more quiet, and I wondered if I should tell someone. After the incident with Moose, he hadn't of been on the friendliest of terms with Harry, or Winters for that matter, and I felt like telling them would be sort of like tattling.

I had an errand to run as well. I strode purposefully towards Dog Company, nodding at the familiar faces I saw along the way. I caught sight of Ron at the end of the tent row, and walked towards him. He caught sight of me as I came within a few feet of me, and dismissed his companion, turning towards me warily. We had not spoken very much since that day in the barn in Holland, and I had tried to avoid being alone with him as much as possible. Today, I was breaking that habit.

"Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?" I asked politely, and he nodded before opening the tent flap in front of him. I walked inside carefully, and turned around to see him right in front of me, staring down with hungry eyes. I put a hand up. "Please, Ron, that's not what I'm here for."

"So what are you here for, then?" he replied, studying me. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I'm here to tell you that I consider you a great friend, and nothing more. Unfortunately, the circumstances right now are contrary to pursuing something else with you, and I want us to remain professional."

I expected him to shout, to scream, but instead he began to laugh, and I stood there with such a look of shock on my face that he laughed harder. "Okay, fine, I see," he choked out through the mirth. "I respect the fact that I have lost to a worthier opponent. Besides," he said, shrugging. "I wasn't going to tell you, but I have a wife in Aldbourne."

My mouth popped open and a look of disgust took over. "Are you kidding me?" He simply raised his hands up in surrender and smiled at the ground. "Hey, it was worth a shot," he said, smiling as I fumed. I stomped out of his tent, throwing up the flap and retreating to the Easy side of the camp. "All men are pigs," I grumbled, and a familiar duo of Philly chuckles drifted from behind me.

"Tell it like it is, sweetheart," Bill said as he limped towards me. I squealed and threw my arms around his shoulders as he laughed and patted my back. "Welcome home, you son of a bitch!" I crowed happily as Babe smirked next to him. "How was the hospital?"

"Terrible," he spat, rubbing his leg. "That's why I broke out to come back you you, darling!" He replied, peering around me. "Where's the rest of the kids?"

"Being drilled by our kookoo new lieutenant," Babe replied tartly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and nodding towards the airstrip. "C'mon, old man, I'll go introduce ya." I waved at them as they walked away, and went inside headquarters to go pick up my mail.

Earlier a runner had found me and informed me that I had a bundle of backed-up letters waiting for me at the outpost, and I hurried to grab them, eager to hear from my father. I hadn't been in full contact with him since before we left Normandy for England, and I was expecting a full lecture on the virtues of keeping in contact with one's parents, etc. Not once in our letters had my father spoken about Martin, or his funeral, and so I hadn't breached the topic with him or asked for any details. It hurt me still to think of him buried on some godforsaken island somewhere, away from his family, away from me.

I walked into the office, smiling at the mail orderly. "Good afternoon, mail for Saylor?" I asked, and he nodded, disappearing behind the shelves for a moment before appearing again with a bundle of letters tied with twine. "Here you are, ma'am, been waiting here for a long time," he said, handing the stack over, and I smiled as I took it in my hands. "Thank you!" I said brightly as I clutched the little bundle to my chest, exiting the warm office and entering the cold weather of early December.

As I was skipping down the steps, George, Don, Skip, and Penk turned the corner, all of their heads together grumbling about… "Dike?" I called out as both a greeting and a question. They all looked up in shock, but relaxed when they saw it was me. "Aw, Princess, you scared us their for a minute," Skip said, and I slung an arm around his shoulder. "Who'd you think I was? _L'autruche_?" I asked, and after a moment of their puzzled glances, I laughed and translated. "The ostrich, y'all. I figured that was a good nickname for our new lieutenant."

"Because Foxhole Norman buries his head in the dirt like an ostrich?" Don asked, chuckling. I shrugged. "That, and because I think he looks like one, too," I replied, and Penk chuckled. "The only reason you don't like him is because he called you 'Missy'," he snorted, and I glared into nothingness. "I'm pretty sure no one calls Eloise 'Missy' and lives," wheezed George, and I smiled to myself as the men laughed. "Where are we off to, anyway?" I asked as they herded me off to the right. "To eat, of course," Skip replied, and only then did I realize how loud my stomach had been growling.

"I am seventy-five percent sure that this is not real meat," Web said as we sat down next to him, inspecting his 'roast beef' and vegetables. "Oh, this is horse meat, boy," Bull commented across from us, chewing thoughtfully. "I can tell from the texture." Frank groaned next to me and pushed his plate away. "God, no," he mumbled, crossing his arms.

Footsteps approached from behind us, and Frank was nudged forward with a sharp poke. "Move over, Perco, that's my spot," Joe's voice came from behind us, and I turned around to lift an eyebrow at him, taking in that white shirt I loved so much. "What is this? High school?" I asked, and he smirked down at me. Bill groaned across from Frank. "Perco, move over so I don't have to watch these two make googly eyes at each other, alright?" he said, and Frank huffed as he scooted over so Joe could sit down. "And how are you on this lovely winter's day, Joe?" I asked neutrally, or at least tried to, as his hand snuck slowly up my thigh under the table. "Wonderful," he said devilishly, and gave my leg a squeeze. I tried not to jump or smile as he cracked up next to me, everyone at the table watching us strangely. "I just do not understand," Babe said solemnly as he watched us, and Johnny nodded. "I don't think we ever will," he added, giving me one of his infamous winks.

"Hey, what did you get at the mail office, Wheezy?" Skip asked, shoveling his horse meat into his mouth. I smiled as I pulled out the little bundle from my pocket, rotating it in front of me. "All of my backed up mail," I replied, untying it slowly. "Let's see," I said, flipping through them. "This one's from my father, my mother, my girlfriends from back home...who still ask about about you, Tab!" I hollered down the table as the boys laughed. "And this one's from-" I paused as all breath left my body, the little yellow envelope frozen in my hand. My heart began to beat faster, and my mouth went dry.

"Who's it from?" Joe asked, leaning over to look but going silent when he saw the writing on the paper. "Oh."

_Sergeant Eloise Saylor (My Little Sister)_, the front of the envelope said in chicken scratch handwriting. And at the very top left corner: _Lt. Martin Saylor_.

I didn't remember how to move until I happened to look up and see the men looking at me, concern written all over their faces. "Excuse…," I said, never getting the 'me' out as I stood up from the table, tripping over the bench and my things as I fled the mess hall, the letter pressed to my chest as I tried to hold in the hysterical tears that threatened to overflow.

I walked quickly to the medic's tent, throwing open the flap and sitting down gingerly, staring at this little package of paper that had flipped my day upside down. Daddy never mentioned Martin or Henry ever attempting to write me, only that he had forwarded them my letters along with his mail. But it wasn't unthinkable that they would try to write me as well, I had just assumed they hadn't had the time or the patience. I turned the envelope over in my hands, taking in the frayed edges and water stains. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the back of the envelope, careful not to rip the delicate paper. I pulled out one folded sheet of paper and a photograph, looking at the photo first. I half-laughed and half-sobbed with delight as I took in my two brother and a crowd of their Marine friends on some island with palm trees in the distance. They all looked beat to hell, but they were smiling with helmets in hand and arms thrown around shoulders. I touched both of their faces with my finger, imagining how it would feel to hug them tightly, if I could.

I put the picture down, intending to add it to the collection in my footlocker, and picked up the worn piece of paper. I could see my brother's words where the ink had bled through from the other side. Slowly, I unfolded it and wiped the tears from my face.

'_May 31, 1944 - Dear Sis, Dad sent us your mail and I have to say, I'm pretty impressed. I told all the guys over here about my sister going to kick Nazi ass, and they've nicknamed you Wonder Woman. I however, remain Dip Spit - I'm not going to share that story with you._' I laughed despite my sadness. "You fucking idiot," I mumbled joyfully to myself, imagining all the shit my brother had gotten into over there.

'_Don't tell Mother or Dad, but this island is true hell. Every day I wake up and wonder which one of my friends will be hurt next, which one I'll be unable to save, whether I'll be a fit leader. I'm sure you know the feeling - we have the utmost respect for our Corpsmen over here, and I imagine it's the same for you. The Japs are cruel - we have to get to our dead before they do, or they'll do terrible things, mutilate them and humiliate them. I bet the Krauts wouldn't do that even if you payed them._'

'_Dad is terribly worried about you. He probably doesn't say it in his letters to you, but he sure does to me. He's afraid you're going to be hurt or lost over there, or worse, you'll find a man and never want to come home! I'm not as worried as he is, but as your big brother I must warn you that if you decided to bring some G.I. home he's going to have to fight me for you 'cause I love you too much to let you get married and run away without me punching him first._'

'_Please be safe. Come home to us. I'll see you then, and if for some reason we won't see each other before or when we get home, I'll find my own way of seeing you. I love you very much Eloise, please write back. Much affection, Martin._'

I placed the letter down next to the photograph, and folded my hands into my lap, staring down at my boots. There was just nothing to say, let alone think, and as I sat there and let the pain wash over me, Joe stepped into my tent and stood in the doorway.

"Eloise?" he asked quietly, and I looked up at him as he came closer. I stood on shaking legs and was headed to the ground when Joe caught me, hauling me back up on my feet. He wrapped his arms around me and planted a kiss on my head as the tears really came pouring out, and I felt like such a baby. I fisted my hands in his white shirt while he made shushing noises at me, rubbing my back. "C'mon, _liebste_, it's okay, it's gonna be alright," he said soothingly, and I nodded and choked back a sob. "I know, I'm being so silly," I wailed and tried to calm my breathing down. "It's just that it still hurts, and I don't think it's ever gonna go away." I wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, and kissed me gently. "I know, but that's why I brought someone," he motioned behind him, and I was too distraught to let go of him to see who it was.

Slowly, Bill walked around us with wide eyes and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey there, doll face," he said gruffly, and I tried to smile at him as Joe softly untangled me from him and let me go. "I'm gonna be outside," he said quietly, then nodded to Bill as he walked out of the tent. I sat down and ran a hand through my hair as Bill carefully picked up the picture of my brothers and studied it quietly, sitting down next to me.

"It just hurts so much," I said quietly, hoarse from my sobbing. Bill reached over and gently grabbed my hand. "I know, sweetheart," he said solemnly. "I know."

* * *

Two nights later we were all sitting in the makeshift movie theater, and I was trying my hardest not to punch Luz.

"Look at me, I'm John Wayne," he drawled in his best impression. "The costume department set me up with these great Navy whites, whaddya think?"

The dynamic duo of Toye and Lipton turned around a row in front of me and hissed at him to shut up. I was half amused and half annoyed that George chose _right now _to be his funny boy self, as opposed to later...outside...when we weren't watching a movie.

I took a drag from my cigarette and leaned over to Joe. "What would you say to setting George's radio on fire to make him shut up?"

"I like the way you think, good-lookin'," he said, slinging an arm over the back of my chair. I scooted a bit closer to him so that we were toughing, and he winked. We were taking every opportunity to sneak off and fool around together, but nothing had come close to that night yet. And frankly, making out in the back of the movie tent surrounded by your fellow soldiers sounded neither like a good idea or an attractive one.

Up in front, Don was passing out money to a surprised Skip in front of a jealous Perco. Lip and Toye were both yelling at Luz again, and Babe and Bill were showing each other their pocket knives. I sighed happily. "My own sweet, perfect, completely fucked up little family," I whispered, gesturing about me with my cigarette as Joe laughed.

"Yeah, 'little'. When did you decide you were the Mama, and not Lip?" he asked, pulling a lock of my hair.

"I'll have you know, I was always the Mama. I was practically born to be a mama, and now I'm _The_ Mama," I replied.

"Is that so?" he asked, grinning to himself. "And how many real kids do you want to have, mama?"

"Are we really about to have this conversation in the _movie tent?_" I scoffed, and he shrugged. "Fine. I want _at least _four, two boys and two girls. I have a list of names written down somewhere..." Joe laughed as I dug around in my pack for my notebook.

"Four it is," he whispered.I blushed, of course.

I looked over to where Winters was trying to get an uncooperative Buck, recently returned from the hospital from his wounds in Holland, to talk back to him. I was extremely worried about him. Earlier that day when he had arrived I had tried to strike up a conversation, but he had blown me off as well. I made a note to keep an eye on him.

Suddenly, the lights went up and the men made a ruckus complaining about their movie being cancelled. "Quiet!" shouted the man up front. "Elements of the 1st and 6th SS Panzer Division have broken through in the Ardennes Forest, now they've overrun the 28th Infantry and the 4th. All officers report to their respective HQ's, all passes are cancelled." The men cried out over this latest injustice, but my mind was whirling.

"This means we're moving out," I said to myself, and Joe looked over at me as we stood. "Shit, Joe, we don't have enough supplies." I thought of the remaining few boxes of medical supplies in the storeroom, and I knew every medic in the 506th was going to scramble for them. "Look, I have to run but I'll see you when we ship out, okay?" I told him, and he nodded. I ran towards Winters, who was still sitting with Buck. "Sir, permission to sprint around gathering supplies," I blurted out, making a face at my words. My brain was too scrambled to speak, apparently.

"Granted," Winters said, looking at me strangely. I nodded as I ran away, shoving past Skip and Don as I bolted out the door and down the street. Halfway to the stockroom, I saw Gene jogging towards me at the intersection. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" he asked as we met and ran towards our supplies. "Absolutely!" I said, and ran in the building.

Luckily, we were the first ones there. I grabbed a box of medical supplies, and seeing it still had room, dumped a bunch of spare socks and K-rations into the top of it, hoisting it underneath my arm. Gene did the same with two others he had found, and we quickly walked back to where the men were loading on trucks. Winters stood over a fire pit inside a barrel warming his hands when we arrived at the scene. "Sir, we have extra clothing, medical supplies, and K-rations that we found," Gene panted out, and I nodded in solidarity. Some of the worry melted from his eyes as he took us in. "Thank you Doc, Eloise," he said wearily. "I can always count on you two." We nodded at his praise and I took my box over to where Second Platoon was loading up. "Bull, give me a hand will ya?" I asked, and the box was lifted into the truck, shortly followed by me. I had managed to grab my scarf from my tent before we left, and I wound it tightly around my neck in the chill of the night. _The Ardennes._ Something about the name of this place made my hair stand up.

Joe snuggled in tightly next to me as the trucks began moving out. "You get what you need?" he asked, and I nodded back. We got maybe thirty minutes into the ride before the whining began.

"Mom, are we there yet?" George cried out, and the men laughed as I smiled. "I don't know, George. Ask your father."

George reached out and poked Joe in the shin. "Dad, are we there yet?" I couldn't help myself, I laughed along with the other men while Joe scowled and shook his head.

"I guess the blackout's not in effect," Buck said, staring out of the tailgate. "Luftwaffen must be asleep."

"What a difference a day makes, huh lieutenant?" another man replied.

"Christ I miss those C-47's," Bill muttered, and we all nodded. "We got a tailgate jump here," Tab added.

"Just wanna know where they're sending us, what the hell are we supposed to do with no ammo?" Babe said, and I wondered that myself.

"Hey kid, what's your name again?" Bill hollered over to the new replacement, who was trying to light Popeye's cigarette in vain. "Suerth, Suerth, uh, junior," the new guy replied. "You got any ammo, Junior?" Babe called out, and he shook his head.

"What about socks, you got extra socks?" Tab asked, and he shook his head again. "You need four, minimum," Skip said seriously, pointing a finger. "Feet, neck, hands, balls..."

"...extra socks warms them all!" the men finished together in a sing-song voice, and I smiled. "Yay, we remembered that one! But we didn't remember the socks."

"I have extra socks," I said calmly, and everyone turned to look at me. "Well of course you do, Eloise, you ain't got no balls." The men snickered and I rolled my eyes. "No, I meant that I stole extra socks from the storeroom before we left. I'll give 'em to y'all when we get off of these rust wagons."

"Junior, take a good look at this woman," Babe said as Suerth looked over at me. "Do you see her? That is a saint in the flesh!" The other men agreed as I winked at Suerth, and he smiled back. Later they all discovered he had cigarettes, and it was all downhill from there for poor Suerth.

As the trucks rattled to a stop, I was hit by the sudden wall of cold. _Cold_, I remembered, wide-eyed. _Not the cold. _I grabbed on to Buck to help me get off the truck as I hopped down onto the frost-laden ground. "Where the hell are we?" someone mumbled from the front. "Well it ain't hell, it's too damn cold!"

Someone had the foresight to light giant holes filled with gasoline on fire, and I gathered around one with the men, enjoying the warmth. Just then, like zombies, the battered men who had been defending the area began to drift out of the woods and walk towards the jeeps, seeing nothing and shuffling forward. The men and I watched in disbelief as they came out of the woods looking like they had been ripped to shreds.

While the men began to scrape ammo off of the retreating soldiers, Gene ran up to me, completely out of breath. "What is it, Gene?" I asked, watching as the boys began to march towards the woods, and we fell in line with them. "You know how I told you I'd ask my grandma about the things you've been dreaming about and hearing?" he said warily, and I nodded. "Yeah, what did she day?"

He gulped nervously before looking down at me. "She reckons you got the Second Sight," he whispered, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "Explain," I said tartly.

"You get information no one else gets cause you can _see _what's coming," he said seriously, and my heart began to race. _Vorsicht._ "You hear what will happen before it does. You got a gift, _cherie. _But I think you shouldn't tell anyone."

"I've already told Joe," I whisper back, and Gene nods after a second. "Fine, but that's it, okay? Because if other people catch wind of you hearing things? They're gonna ship you outta here faster than a caught Kraut. You got me?"

"I got you," I replied. And I did.

* * *

**That brings us up to Bastogne! I'll post an update when I'm not currently dying of sleep deprivation. Not too pleased with this one as I crunched it out kind of fast, so I'm probably going to go back and edit some. If see changes, don't freak: it's just me. **


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you again for all the reviews! Just a side note, I haven't updated lately because I fell off my horse and bruised my tailbone after I hit a tree (because of course I would), and it's been hurting to sit for long periods of time for a couple of days. Hence why I haven't had the patience to sit down and write! It's all good though, and the next couple of chapters are going to be really intense. **

**So here we go!**

* * *

**PART ONE**

_"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." - Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

Once, when I was a little girl, it snowed - people in my town went berserk. Of course, snow was not a common thing in Vicksburg, so (as you can imagine) all the stores shut down, people swerved over Main Street on an inch of ice, and the markets were cleared out of bread and canned goods in anticipation for apocalypse that was surely about bear down upon us.

I remember walking outside holding my nanny's hand, _oohing_ and _ahhing _at the tiny, delicate flurries that were raining down in whimsical swirls. I remember being disappointed that the little pieces of snow didn't look like the snowflakes I had cut out of white paper and hung from our Christmas tree. I remember catching one on the tip of my finger, shivering as the tiny pinpricks of cold shocked my skin as it melted upon impact. I remember being fascinated.

I'm not fascinated anymore.

Gene and I walk through the woods, the only sound coming from the distant whirling of the wind between the shell blasts and the crunch of the permafrost under our feet. _Permafrost. _That was one of the new words I had learned when the snow had began to fall in earnest, along with _frost bite_, _hypothermia, _and _trench foot._

I didn't like the way the snow sounded. To me it was the equivalent of the creak of rotten floorboards beneath my feet. I felt like I could fall through the ground and into something unknown and dark at any moment. I made sure to walk behind Gene, stepping in his exact footprints wherever we went. He noticed, but never said anything.

He stopped to reach down and inspect a blasted and singed piece of cloth, somehow pricking his hand in the process, hissing in surprise. I watched blankly as he gently squeezed his fingertip, the little teardrop of blood welling from beneath his skin. The red looked sharp against the whiteness around us.

We looked up to see the clearing in front of us, and I put a hand on his shoulder. "Too close," I whispered, and he nodded. "I know," he replied, and rose up as I backed away from the line.

We were out looking for the rest of Third Battalion, trying to scrounge some supplies, some help. We were finding nothing. A few lonesome machine gun bursts echoed from somewhere nearby, breaking the silence. I was learning as I walked. You could tell when there had been heavy fighting if the branches of the trees were all stripped seven feet up, scorch marks on the bark. Gene touched them gently as we walked by, shaking his head silently. I didn't. I didn't like what happened when I touched the trees.

He picked up the pace and stepped on a branch, snapping it in two. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. I was so numb to the cold that I think it was paralyzing me, each day adding another inch to my body where I felt nothing. He stopped in front of me, and I looked up as he stared. About seven dead men, German or American - it didn't matter anymore - lay in front of us, legs blown apart, resting their blue faces on the ground. The frost had begun to eat away at their features. Gene grabbed my hand before I could reach out to close one of their frozen eyes, forever staring into the distance, watching for the enemy._ Vorsicht._

"Don't," he said simply, teeth chattering. I stared blankly into the dead man's eyes. He got the warning too late. As I stood there, Gene began to jog away. I didn't follow him immediately, but watched him as I walked where his footsteps stayed imprinted on the snow.

We stumbled upon Easy Company just as we had stumbled out of it, Winters cracking his iced-over pan in a valiant effort to shave in sub-zero temperatures. I heard a twig snap as we approached, and instinctively knelt to the ground just as Gene did. I crouched behind him as Winters grabbed his rifle and crept into the treeline, shaving cream still on his face. In the frosty, foggy distance I could barely make out the form of a man, looking just as lost as Gene and I had been. Winters raised his rifle, and the man knelt. "_Kommen Sie hier," _he commanded in badly-accented German, and the man paused, as if to run. "_Kommen Sie hier, schnell,_" he said again firmly as the man hesitated still. "_Schnell!_"

The man put his hands above his head and reluctantly stumbled towards us, clearly disoriented. As he came closer, I could tell he was petrified, and very, very lost. He paused in shock when he saw me, but Winters grabbed him by the coat and pushed him forward. The man, who was in actuality nothing but a boy, kept flickering his eyes between Winters and me, as if unsure which to believe: that he had been taken prisoner by the Americans, or that one of the Americans was a woman.

Winters rifled through his papers while two MP's stood behind the German, who was now holding his hands above his head and looking extremely nervous. He was a kind-looking young man, and I pitied him for being tangled up in this war, in these woods, in this mess. In his billfold, Winters found a picture of the boy's family, and pushed it gently back inside, tucking the wallet back into the man's coat. In his other pocket, he found a bandage which he promptly tossed to Gene. A jeep drove up behind us as Doc twirled the bandage in his hands, and out hopped Colonel Sink.

I hadn't seen him since Holland, and I found a strange satisfaction in observing that he wasn't handling the cold any better than I was. I didn't listen to what they were saying - I barely listened to anyone anymore. I knew what was transpiring - that we had too few men, that the line was spread so thin that enemy soldiers kept wandering into our camp, that each company was so far apart that we got lost looking for each other. It didn't matter, they would still keep us in this frozen hell until we were all blown to bits.

"...tanks, artillery, got no back up," I zoned in on General McCollum's speech. "There's a lot of shit headed this way." Gene and I exchanged a nervous glance, and I stared as the jeep roared away. "I'm going to go check on the men," I told him, watching his nose grow more red by the minute. "I'll go talk to Spina, see what he has," he replied, and I reached out and squeezed his shoulder gently. "_Restez au chaud!_" He just nodded and walked off into the fog.

* * *

I couldn't remember whether it had been the first or the second day in the Ardennes when I had realized that these woods were the same ones from my nightmares. All that was missing were the dead Germans, but we found them soon afterward, quite literally frozen in death where they had fallen, mouths wide in screams of agony and hands stuck in claws that gripped the ground underneath them. I found the first five near my foxhole, Joe right behind me. I hadn't meant to scream, but I did, and was only aware of my panic when Joe's gloved hand clamped down on my mouth, silencing me. I trembled as we walked back to the foxhole, trying to pass it off from the cold.

I know that something has changed within me. I can feel it in my head sometimes - it's the other voice, the other presence. It doesn't say anything anymore, but it's almost as if it's watching what's happening around me through my own eyes, just observing silently. It unnerved me. But what could I do? I couldn't tell anyone, and Gene couldn't help me; I just had to live with it. And so I did, and it set me on edge. Things that normally wouldn't have alarmed me now sent me into panic attacks. I couldn't bear the idea of not checking on my men at least once every two hours. I rarely slept anymore, because I was afraid of what I would see in my dreams. I heard voices echo through the trees when I knew that there was no one there. I was going crazy, and it killed me.

Gene had tried to explain it to me once. "I think you're an edge-walker," he had said, huddling into himself as we shared my foxhole. "You're not completely gone from us, but you're not entirely here, either. Sort of like Buck."

_Sort of like Buck. _He hadn't been the same since he had returned to us in France. I watched him sometimes as he shuffled along, a blank look in his eyes as he cracked smiles that looked more like grimaces. He looked like a zombie. Did I look like that, too?

I didn't need help like he did, though. I would be fine as long as I kept moving and working and focusing on my men and my training to endure whatever was thrown at me. As I passed by each foxhole, I only had to glance down and raise an eyebrow at the men, satisfied when they would send me a thumbs up or a wink. I think I cared for them more than I cared for myself, and that alone warmed me. I lived my life for them, to save them from anything, even if it meant throwing myself into direct artillery. Joe hated that.

I slid into my foxhole, which together we had dug deeper than the others. One reason was for privacy, and the other was for warmth. I had spread my poncho above the opening, rigged up by little branches surrounding us. Joe was curled up and resting against the side of the foxhole, glancing up when I hopped in. "Thank God," he said simply, grabbing me and half-dragging me to his side, locking his arms around my waist as he kissed me on the neck. "For what? That I'm not dead?" I asked dryly, and he shook his head. "No, for the body heat," he replied tartly, and I giggled. He was the only one who made me laugh anymore.

He was worried about me. I could see it in the panic he tried to hide in his eyes whenever I ventured out of the foxhole, the way he would glance over at me every few minutes to make sure I was eating whatever Dominguez had managed to find in the supplies for dinner, and how he would gently press two fingers under my chin to check for a pulse when he thought I was asleep. I had asked George, who obviously knew everything about everyone, why he was so worried. He shrugged. "He probably thinks that you'll disappear if he doesn't hang on tight enough," he had said, and I had stared at him blankly until he sighed. "You're already halfway gone."

I couldn't help it. Everything, everything about this place made me feel dark, made me feel bleak. I felt no joy or spark, I was just complacent enough to _be_. I knew I would be better when we got out of this dreadful forest, but lately I wondered if I would be able to leave, if the woods wouldn't swallow me whole. My life was in limbo.

I grabbed Joe's hands between mine and rubbed them together distractedly, trying to warm him up. He was always so cold, even more sensitive to the extreme weather than us poor Southern kids. But then again, when you live in California, things must always be sunny and bright no matter the time of year. If he was worried about me, then I was worried about him. We never went too long without being in each other's company. I'm sure the men had figured us out by now, but we didn't care - we just wanted each other to _stay alive. _

"What did you see today?" he asked me, his trademark catch phrase since we had dug into Bastogne. The double entendre was safe enough to use in front of the others without giving away it's literal and figurative meaning.

"Nothing, except a few very real, very dead Germans and another ten tons of snow," I said, frowning. I was still upset that Gene and I had failed to find Third Battalion and hook up with their medics. We were running low on everything, and Dike was still not helping. Gene had insisted on being self-sufficient and not complaining about our lack of supplies or leadership, but the mother bear within me wasn't going to take that much longer. It was just a matter of time before I snuck down to Bastogne proper and jimmied open the lock on the regimental supply room. I cracked a rare smile at the thought.

"Never thought I'd see the day when a dead German would make you smile," he joked behind me, his breath on the back of my neck warm and comforting. I rolled my eyes even if he couldn't see me. "I was smiling because I was thinking about petty theft, not dead people," I snarked, and turned to look at him over my shoulder. "Atta girl," he said, and kissed me sweetly. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh, relaxing for the first time that day.

_BAM! _An artillery shell landed near us, and we both jumped towards each other. I grabbed his jacket and hauled him down to where we were both curled as close as we could get to the ground, and I gritted my teeth as another one landed, shaking clods of dirt from the walls of our foxhole. I was waiting for the call that would inevitably come, and as soon as I heard the first strains of 'MEDIC!' from behind the explosions, I was lunging towards the entryway when Joe grabbed onto my jacket. His eyes were wide with a strange mix of fury and mania as he clung on to me, and I put my hand on his fist. "I have to go!" I yelled, but he just gritted his teeth and drug me back down. "Not until the artillery stops!" he screamed, pleading with me silently, and I relented. No more than thirty seconds went by until silence replaced the ringing in my ears, and laced my fingers with his. "_Ich liebe dich_," he muttered, the phrase as familiar to me as my own name at this point. I kissed him desperately as he wrapped his arms around me, unwilling to let me go, even as the calls for a medic fell silent. I relished in the warmth that spread through me as we kissed, the only warmth I ever truly experienced anymore, and as we broke apart I could feel my swollen lips turning bright red from the stubble around his mouth.

I touched my lips gently. "People are going to talk if I keep coming out of here all hot and bothered like this," I whispered, and Joe tossed his head. "Fuck what other people say, as long as you keeping coming back to me," he said seriously, and I touched my forehead to his. "I'll try my best," I replied, holding our hands between us. "I'm very determined to not be blown to bits."

"You'd better be," he growled, all traces of humor gone from his voice. I wondered, what would happen if I was hurt, or taken away somehow? Would Joe turn back into the frenzied killing machine I had witnessed in Holland? Would he be able to function? I shivered at the thought, and looked towards the opening anxiously.

"I know, you have to go," he said darkly, letting go of my hands. "I do," I replied, giving him one more chaste kiss, smiling as he huffed and sat back against the wall heavily. "I'll be back soon, I promise." I threw back the raincoat cover and inspected the damage around us. A few more trees torn apart, a few more scorch marks on the snow, but no blood, and no death, thank God.

I jogged towards the men, looking hurriedly from side to side to make sure no one was stranded or wounded without me knowing. I encountered Gene as he was running back from the front, covered in dirt. "You alright?" I asked, dusting some dirt off of his jacket. "Yeah, I am," he said slowly, blinking hard and looking towards the sky, still a little shell-shocked. "Look, Eloise, I want you to take someone, and work your way over to the Third Battalion, alright? You know what we need - bandages, plasma, whatever you can beg, you beg. And get me some goddamn scissors, I can't get any." He stopped and looked at me as he jumped into his foxhole. "And get yourself a hot meal too, okay? You look like the walking dead." I glowered at him for that one, and Babe walked up from behind us. "I'll go with you," he said, nodding at Gene as he sat down and wrenched off his helmet. "Fine. Go," Gene motioned backwards with his thumb, and I knelt down. "I'm bringing you back some food too, okay?" I said, and Gene looked at me as if he was annoyed, but someone had to take care of him too. "It's because I love you, you fool," I said as Lip and Harry walked past us.

"Well damn, that's the sweetest thing I've heard all day," Harry said with a grin, and I threw my hands up. "I guess I better go inform Buck that we finally have proof that it's not Speirs," Lip replied, and I scowled. "I love all of you, okay? Really, I do," I said honestly, rolling my eyes. "If y'all haven't figured that out by now, then y'all ain't got a single lick of sense."

"See? I told you," Lip said to Harry as they walked away. "Just a huge softie after all." I threw a snowball that Harry dodged, and their laughter reverberated back around the trees towards us as they made their way to Winters' compound. I motioned to Babe. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

"You know he told me he's a goddamn virgin?" Babe said suddenly as we walked quickly through the woods, his rifle pointed out in front of us. "Who?" I asked, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. "The replacement in my foxhole, Julian," he said, hitting his head on a tree branch. "Goddamn virgin, just a kid," he continued, looking all around us. "Only virgin I know is the Virgin Mary," I joked, and relished Babe's little laugh of glee until he stopped and looked at me quizzically.

"You mean you've...?" he let the question hang, and I was confused for a moment before I caught on to what exactly he was referring to, and I set my jaw. "Oh no, we are _not _about to talk about this," I mumbled, pulling the collar on my jacket a bit higher and stomping forward. Babe caught up to me easily. "Oh _come on_, Eloise, just give me a little something here! I could get hit tomorrow, and die never knowing that at least _someone _has had the good fortune to get with a dame like you." I looked at him disparagingly as he chuckled to himself.

I sighed. _What the hell_. "I was seventeen," I blurted out suddenly, and Babe halted in his tracks. "What? Really!?" he said excitedly, and I already regretted opening my mouth. "Yes, really," I droned while he looked at me gleefully. "Who was the lucky guy?"

I flushed despite myself. "His name was Bo Yeats, the son of my next door neighbor. He was twenty," I recalled, remembering when I was still young enough to believe what every boy told me was the truth. "It was terrible."

Babe laughed, and then fell quiet. I could hear the gears turning in his head, and I sighed. "And since the war...?" he asked cautiously, and I shot him a look. "Okay, okay, we won't go there," he grumbled, and I shook my head. Of all the people, Babe was the last one I had thought would draw _that_ kind of information out of me.

"Babe, where the hell are we?" I asked cautiously, suddenly looking around and finding nothing familiar. "This way," he said confidently, pointing towards plain fog and nothingness. "I don't like it," I said, glancing from side to side. "Where the hell's Third Battalion?" Babe strode a few feet forward before falling through a pile of branches, the look on his face making me giggle suddenly as he went waist deep. "Shit!" he yelled, and started chuckling as I tried to help him out. "You okay?" I asked, but was silenced as we heard a third voice call out beneath us. I paled as I grabbed onto Babe, trying to haul him out of the German foxhole. As he lept out, he knocked me backwards into the tree behind us, and I rammed my head hard against a branch that was bent at an angle. I cried out in pain as it stabbed me sharply, and I stumbled to the ground as the soldier lept out of the brush and pointed his rifle right at me.

I held my hand to my head as I trembled, staring straight into the eyes of this man. His crazed expression sent a pang of fear right into my heart. _He's going to kill me,_ I thought wildly, and I raised my hands above my head as he studied me. I registered briefly that Babe was nowhere to be found, but I was too panicked to worry about him deserting me. The German cocked his head as he took in my red cross patch.

"You medic?" he asked in broken English as I nodded wildly. "_Ja, ich bin ein Sanitäter_," I replied in German, scrambling backwards as he raised himself out of his foxhole. His uniform was tattered and it looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in a very long time. As I attempted to raise myself up, my helmet fell off, exposing my long braid and the fact that I was a woman. My heart stopped as he paused and gave me a sinister smile. _Oh, no._

Before I could register what was happening, a Luger was pointed between my eyes, and I began to hyperventilate. "Get up," he said slowly, and I gently raised myself off of the ground, never taking my eyes off of the gun. Quick as a snake, he lunged forward and grabbed me by my hair, dragging me towards him. I couldn't help the shriek that escaped my lips, but I was silenced out of despair and fear when I felt the cool metal of the gun press into the side of my head. "You take me to the camp," he spat, forcing me forward with a twist of his hand in my hair, and I hissed at the pain, a few tears of reaction prickling at the corner of my eyes. "You take me _now_." I reluctantly began to follow my footprints in the snow, seeing three sets of tracks instead of the two I had anticipated. Babe had run back to Easy. I prayed that he had made it.

* * *

I heard Heffron before I saw him. He ran past my foxhole blubbering something about a German, and my ears pricked up. Eloise had gone out an hour ago to check on the guys, and she hadn't returned. I'd figured she was curled up with Doc or Luz somewhere, talking or whatever the hell she did that made them so calm all the time. The girl had a gift, and even though she hated it, it did some good.

I stayed down in my foxhole ignoring Heffron until the entire company seemed to be yelling and pitching a fit over something, I figured I might as well go and see what was going on, and threw back the raincoat with a disgruntled look on my face. I walked quickly towards the group of men who were huddled around Babe, yelling at him and looking panicked. "I didn't mean to run away, it just happened! I thought she was right there behind me..." he stopped talking as soon as he saw me, and the other men fell silent as they turned around and shot me looks of fear and anger. I didn't say anything. I was too fixated on the word 'she'._  
_

I couldn't form words, but I understood what was happening. Eloise had gone with Babe out there, and he had been the only one to come back. My head felt like it was on fire as I stared at him, trying not to scream, trying not to lose control and shoot Heffron to pieces where he stood. No one said anything as he walked forwards, hands out in front of him.

"I didn't mean to leave her out there, I mean..." he swallowed, saying the one thing he knew he shouldn't have told me. "We both panicked, and I ran, but I thought she was behind me!"

"Where is she." It wasn't a question, it was a demand. I had to know, I had to go get her if she was...I couldn't even say it to myself.

"I don't know, we both ran separate ways, at least I think," Babe stuttered out, and Doc put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But Lieb, there was a German, and I don't know what happened, but there weren't any shots fired." There was a pause as he struggled to say something, and my heart sank to my feet. He took a deep breath. "I heard her scream," he said, and my vision blurred with fury.

A scream. I told her I would take care of her, promised I would protect her against _her worst fear - _I couldn't even think of that happening to her without my fist clenching and feeling sick - and now she was alone in the forest, being held by a German, maybe more. Alone, without me. I was alone without her.

I was going after her. By the looks of the other men, all shouldering their rifles, they were going too. No matter, I would find her. And I would execute every man who had laid a finger on her. My hands shook as my vision seeped into blackness. No one would survive my rage.

But a rattle of breath, a painful intake of air from the edge of the treeline stole my attention away from images of blood on the snow. Standing shakily, Eloise hovered on the brink of consciousness as she swayed unsteadily. "Don't shoot," she said weakly, and out from behind her stepped a tall German lieutenant, crazed by the look in his yellowed eyes. He looked at us all with pure malice as he pressed a Luger to her temple, and she closed her eyes in fear. As they shifted, I could see his dirty hand wound into her hair, pulling painfully at her scalp. As he yanked her to him, she cried out in pain. I wasn't aware I was going towards them until I was stopped by Bull's hand on my chest, and he held me back firmly.

The German smiled a manic grin as he stroked the side of her face with the gun. "Such pretty girl," he muttered in broken English, and then dropped the facade. "Not pretty with no face." Eloise's eyes widened and she looked towards me, panic taking over her expression.

"So, you give me _meine Männer_," the German said, looking at me with glinting eyes. "Or girl _Sanitäter_..." he observed us coldly. "_Sie stirbt._"

_She dies. _

* * *

**I know this was short compared to my other chapters, but Bastogne and The Breaking Point are chopped up into little bits because there is so much action both in my plot and in the show, and I don't want it to be overwhelming. The next one is in the works! **


	18. Chapter 18

**All I do is work work work no matter what... seriously, though. This week was terrible, and all I wanted to do was write. FINALLY we can get this story going again!**

**As always, thanks for the reviews! I hope y'all like this one as much as the others.**

* * *

I had stopped breathing long ago, mostly because panic had wrapped its fists around my lungs and was squeezing hard. The German had dragged me through a mile of snowdrifts and trees, mumbling madly to himself as he dug the Luger into the back of my skull. I thought I had always done well with fear and panic in the battlefield, dodging bullets to get to other men and braving bazooka explosions, but this was incomparable to anything I had ever experienced before. Partly because death came in the form of the cold gunmetal kissing my cheek, and partly because I couldn't take my eyes off of Joe.

He was going to watch me die. I couldn't see a way out of my situation without a bullet hurdling through my brain. And that hard truth was what really pushed me over the edge. My breath came out in gasps as my chest heaved, and my body began to trembled violently. I clenched my fists where they hung uselessly at my sides, too afraid to reach for the pocket knife I had in my jacket pocket. My tears froze where they slid over my face, creating an icy layer of pain on my cheeks. I kept my eyes locked onto Joe's, but after a few seconds the edges of my vision began to blur out and go black. _Panic attack, _I realized, and tried to breathe. I couldn't blackout or pass out like this.

"_Meine Männer_," I heard the German say, and my head swam. His men? What men? My thoughts flickered briefly to the man Winters had captured this morning. Was that who he was referring to? How many of them had he lost?

"Liebgott, what does he want?" Bull asked, hand still on Joe's chest, preventing him from making a banzai attack on the man behind me. Joe swallowed hard. "He wants his men," he said gruffly, shoving Bull off of him. "He thinks we have them." He took a tentative step forward and the German's hand tightened against my scalp, making me wince. My head was already thrown back from the way he was gripping my head, and my neck spasmed in pain. "_Wir haben nicht Ihre Männer. Sie sind in der Zentrale,_" Joe spat rapidly in German, freezing where he was when he saw the German dig the gun into the side of my face. "_Ich glaube dir nicht. Bringen sie hier, jetzt. Ich werde sie töten_," the German replied, and Joe's face paled. I felt as if I was going to be sick. Joe's hand inched towards his gun, and my eyes widened. "Joe, please, don't -" I began to mutter quickly, but was halted when the man reared back the gun and slammed it into the side of my head. I shrieked as my head seemed to explode, pain shooting through my skull like lightening, and I crumpled to the ground face first. I screwed my eyes shut as I tried to focus on what was happening, but the throbbing in my head was debilitating. I could hear the mass mechanical pops and locks of twenty rifles loading and safeties being flicked off at once, and I groaned, knowing this would be the end. Suddenly, the German's foot stomped on my back, knocking the wind out of me. I didn't dare move, because somehow I knew that the Luger was pointed at my head. The lack of movement from the men told me that much.

Everyone was holding their breath, more than I was. The only sound to be heard was the wind through the trees and distant shots from far away. I heard the crunch of snow under boots as Joe took another bold step forward. "_Wenn Sie sie töten, ich werde dich finden. Ich werde dich zu quälen. Wir haben nicht deine Männer!_" he growled, his voice dark and inhuman. I knew what was happening to him - the darkness was taking over.

But the German just laughed, long and hard and flinty, bitter and pass the point of no return from his sanity. "_Schade. Sie wird hübsch aussehen, mit ihrer Gehirne auf dem Schnee!_" he said gleefully, and I heard the telltale sign of a pistol cocking above me. I screwed my eyes shut. _No, please, not like this. Not where Joe, the men, have to watch. Help me. Help me. _I prayed nonsensically in split second intervals. There was a shout from the men, and a shot rang out as I inhaled a sharp breath, waiting for the pain. The German grunted above me, and then stumbled away relieving the pressure off my back. My heart raced as I gasped for air, and I tried to raise myself up on my shaking arms.

A shadow hovered above me as I felt Joe's hands fluttering over my back. "Eloise, Eloise!" he was saying my name, the alarm apparent in his voice. He gently turned me over as my eyes tried to blink back the blackness that was threatening to spread completely. His face lingered, out of focus, in my line of vision as I watched the other men hasten to gather around me, some frantically calling for Gene, others just swearing and looking at me fearfully. Joe's hands came to rest gently on my face, and I winced as he touched my split lip. Things were beginning to swim, and I could only see a few inches in front of me.

"Shit, she's about to pass out," I heard George's voice say. "Someone got get Doc and Captain Nixon!" I heard boots swiftly dashing away. "That fucking goddamn Kraut," I heard Bill say loudly, swearing colorfully. I swallowed as the blackness closed in, even though my eyes were wide open. Was I dying? I had no idea. "I'm so sorry," I mumbled drowsily, and someone grabbed my hand. "Was being...so stupid..."

"Move, move!" I heard Gene's voice yell from afar, skidding down next to me. "What in the name of God happened?" Babe's tearful voice rang out over the others as they explained the hostage situation, and Joe's rough thumb wiped away my errant tears. "We have to keep her awake," Gene said, pulling my eyelids open. I felt the movement and the cool air, but my vision was still black and I reached up and grabbed Gene's hand weakly. "Gene, I can't see," I summoned all of my cognitive power to blurt out. I felt my eyelids flutter as a new wave of pain traveled through my head, and I cried out. "I can't think...I think I'm gonna..." And without meaning to, I sank into oblivion, helpless to the shouts around me. My eyes closed and my head lolled as everything went dark.

* * *

Shifty had sent a bullet through the Kraut's heart. He was hiding behind a tree, watching the whole damn thing, and when he thought things were getting too heated for his liking, he saved her.

I watched as he eyelashes fluttered against my hand when she leaned her cheek into my palm. "I can't see," she had whimpered, and fear overcame any attempt to remain calm. Gene swore as she went under, eyes still open slightly and mouth slack, looking dead. This was too much for me. I grabbed her and cradled her against my arm, searching for a pulse under her jaw, right where she liked to be kissed. The thought sent a pang of debilitating pain through my chest, and I let out a breath when I felt the steady beat of her little heart under my fingers.

The guys had said nothing, both ignoring and watching me carefully. Babe looked as if he was about to break down right then and there, and I clutched her closer as I looked at Doc with manic eyes. "What do I do?" I asked.

"She has a severe concussion, possible swelling and internal bleeding in her brain," he said solemnly, looking exhausted. "We need to get her to the Captain's tent where she can stay warm and out of danger. This is the worst case scenario for her." He put a hand on my arm. "Loss of vision, not good at all."

Each man cringed and glared at the dead Kraut in the snow. There were no words, only my wish that he wasn't dead, only for the reason that I had wanted to kill him myself. To make him suffer, for every time he had made her scream in pain. My hands fisted in her jacket as I watched her chest rise and fall with weak breaths.

"Malarkey, help Liebgott carry her to the tents," Doc said, rising and barking out orders. "Babe, come with us, you're going to have to explain the story to Winters and the rest of the commanding officers." Doc shot me a concerned look as I stood, forcing my mouth into a line to stop from breaking down. _Not the time. _

Walking quickly across the snow away from the line, my shoulder bumped into Malarkey's as we tried our best to carry her without jostling her too much. He didn't say anything, and I didn't glance over to see his face. I didn't want to see his sadness, the pity in his eyes for her, for me, for us. Nixon and Winters jogged over to us as we approached. "Bring her in here, Doc, I set up a pallet," Winters said, looking horrified at Eloise's blossoming black eye and the blood that had oozed from her scalp. Nixon didn't try to touch her, just stared down at her face like he was in a trance. Harry and Buck followed us into Winters's extensive foxhole, crowding around us as Malark and I lowered her gently onto the little cot. She laid there pathetically, and I took in how skinny she had gotten since we had been here, deep circles under her eyes. I clenched my hands to my sides to avoid touching her in front of the brass, but Nixon shot me a sidelong glance, as if he understood.

"Good God," Harry whispered as he looked down at the broken girl beneath us. "Who the fuck did this to her?"

"She got taken," I said roughly, surprising myself along with the other men. "A fucking Kraut. Beat her and almost shot her in the head." I exhaled loudly, and looked towards Harry. "Shifty got him before he could pull the trigger." He grimaced down at her as he swore and shook his head. Buck leaned down to gently tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, and I nearly jumped him. I knew that after this, I would be twice as protective of her. I knew that would annoy her to the point of insanity, and I could nearly see her eye-roll, her faxed pain expression melting into that little half smile that made my stomach churn and adrenaline pump through my veins. When she woke up, I would tell her, just to see that smile.

"I need to check her out, sir," Doc said to Winters, who nodded at us. "Okay, I'll call a jeep," he said, eyes flickering to our faces. "Liebgott and Nix, you stay and help Doc." Winters regarded me carefully, and I nodded my thanks to him. I watched numbly as the other men reluctantly left the tent, glancing back to take one last look at our girl.

Nixon hadn't moved from where he had stood next to Winters, just staring at her blankly. I knelt down beside her and gently took her hand in mine. "Doc, is there any way to tell if she...if that Kraut...?" I couldn't say the words, but he understood. "Not really, not unless she was really hurt," he muttered, glancing at Nixon and me nervously. "There would be a lot of blood." I clenched my jaw and looked at her ashen face. "I really need to look at her head," Doc motioned toward me, and I begrudgingly dropped her hand and stepped back to stand with Nixon as we watched him gently probe her skull.

"Thank you," Nixon said suddenly, looking at me intensely. "For taking care of her." I narrowed my eyes a bit but lifted my chin in acceptance. I always knew he had a thing for her, but he cared for her too, and that was what mattered. "I didn't take care of her," I admitted, looking at my feet. Nixon moved a hand as if to put it on my shoulder, but then thought better of it and glued his hand to his side. "It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault. She attracts danger wherever she goes." He tried to make it sound like a funny little quip, but the humor was lost on me. It was true; fate was trying to snatch her away from me, and I'd be damned if I'd let it take her from me without a fight.

"When will she wake up?" Nixon asked as Doc stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked at us morosely. "I don't know," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Liebgott, you have to be prepared." He looked at me seriously, and my head ached as I tried to decipher his meaning. "Prepare for what?" I asked carefully. His sad eyes set me on edge.

"That she might not wake up," he said, watching me as this sank into my head. I looked down at her, fury building behind my eyes. That wasn't going to be an option. "She will," I said firmly, looking at both of them. "She will." I reclaimed my spot beside her, taking up her hand as I heard the jeep screech to a halt beside the tent. I rubbed my hands together across her's to warm her up, but the cold kept seeping back in, no matter what.

* * *

I was swimming, and it was dark. I knew I was swimming because I could hear the faint sounds above me on the surface that were warped by the water. I floated just under the surface, listening. Time was irrelevant here, nonlinear; no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out the space between the voices.

I heard Joe's the most. "_Wake up, Eloise. Come on, please, do it for me. Do it for us. The men need you, _I _need you_," he would plead, sounding more despondent and desperate than I had ever heard him before. I would hear him sigh, hear him grind his teeth, and once, I thought I heard a sob. I wasn't sure about that one, though. Joe Liebgott never cried.

Then there was Nix, my happy Nix who now sounded so sad. "_I'm sorry, I should have..._" He never finished, just always sighed and walked away. I heard his boots crunch to and fro in the snow. Gene came, too, but his visits were more clinical. "_Slight reflex to the kneecap, eyelid fluttering, spots in her eyes indicate lasting head trauma_," he would dictate morosely to someone, and I could hear the scratch of a pencil on paper. Then a pause. "_Not spots, freckles_," he puzzled, and an eraser scraped against paper. "_Freckles have developed inside irises. Identical on each side._"

There were many others, all of my friends: George, Bill, Bull, Skip, Malarkey, Babe, Buck, Harry. They all came to visit and talk to me, but really they were just talking to themselves. Buck held my hand, and Bill would always make sure my covers were tucked in tight enough around me. It was nice, listening to them.

I swam, I floated, I wanted nothing. But one day, or moment, the voice spoke to me.

_What are you doing? _It asked me, and I frowned. "I'm waiting," I replied, not at all happy to acknowledge its presence. _Why? _It asked again, and I shrugged, or I thought I did. "Because I want to wake up," I replied tartly, and the voice was quiet for a moment. _Well, wake up, then, _It said. I furrowed my brow. "But I can't do that," I replied slowly, now thinking about it. Could I?

_Yes, you can, _It said seriously. _If you stay here, you will die. _"Where is here?" I asked, floating. _It's not for you to know yet. You have to join the men. Now, WAKE UP._ The suctioning noise deafened my ears as I rose to the surface, water breaking around my head. I felt my eyelids flutter, and I groaned as suddenly my sense came rushing back into me, filling me up with sounds and smells and the rough kiss of the scratchy army blanket resting against my chin. My body ached as I groaned, and my head lolled to the side as I squinted my eyes against the light.

There was a clatter of metal on metal as something was dropped, and I felt someone kneel next to me. "Eloise?" I heard a woman's voice ask carefully, and my hand twitched under the blanket as I tried to move. I slowly opened my eyes millimeter by millimeter, the light blinding me no matter what I tried. My arms felt like logs, and my legs were too weak to move. I tried to lift myself up, but I couldn't even get my arms into a sit-up position.

I was in a cathedral, tucked into a dusty corner where stone walls barricaded my cot from the drafty interior. Wounded men lay around me, some moaning, other suspiciously quiet or sleeping. The light filtered in lazily from the high stained-glass windows above me, and I sighed as I recognized my surroundings. _Bastogne, _I thought to myself. _I'm in Bastogne. _

A nurse hurried towards me, with a dark head of hair bobbing behind her. Irrationally, my heart leapt into my throat as I let myself believe it could be Joe, but Nixon's face peeked around the nurse's frame, and the relief that shone through his eyes put me off.

Nix laughed incredulously when he saw me staring up at him, perplexed. "You beautiful idiot," he said fondly, crouching down beside me to put a hand to my forehead. "Who is burning up with fever." He scowled over at the nurse. "How long has she been like this?"

"She has been awake for potentially five minutes, and she can answer questions, too," I grumbled, and Nix laughed as the nurse grinned and looked on. "Point taken. Still, thought I'd never see those pretty green eyes of yours glaring at me again." The seriousness of his tone startled me. "How long was I asleep?"

"Asleep?" Nix scoffed, grimacing. "You were in a downright coma for five days." My mouth dropped open, and my eyes flickered around the church. Five days? I couldn't even think about what might have happened in the span of five days. "How is everyone?" I asked.

"Well, Joe's been trying to stay here every day for at least half the day, wouldn't leave until we physically pulled him back to the front," Lew shrugged, and I glared. "Pretty much every man has come to see you, except for the replacements. I think it's because they're afraid of Joe." I snorted and laughed, thinking about the Babies enduring the Mighty Liebgott Wrath. Both of them smiled at the sound of my laughter. I tried to raise myself up again, but the nurse pushed me down gently. "Nope, you are to stay right there, my orders," she said, and when I stared at Nix he looked away, clearly uncomfortable. My intuition bristled at that, but I waited. "Lew," I started carefully. "What happened to my eyes?"

Lew looked around uncomfortably. "Um, well, what happened was that somehow, when you got smacked in the back of the head, the trauma caused your eyes to develop spots, which later turned into freckles. So... it's not bad, it's just different," he finished lamely, and I frowned. "Can I see a mirror?" I asked, and Nixon nodded silently as he handed me the little pocket mirror he used when he shaved. I peered curiously into the little piece of glass. "Oh," I remarked, taking in the black spots that rested underneath my pupils. I watched as they dilated, lapping over the dark spots, creating something of a dual pupil that was both fascinating and unsettling all at once. "Well, I can see just fine."

"Good, good," Lew said, relieved. "Doc was afraid you had gone blind. That bastard gave you a pretty good whack in the side of the head." As if reminding me, my head gave a throb, and I closed my eyes wearily. "Where is Gene? How are the men?" I rasped, swallowing and shivering against the cold sweats of my fever. "We didn't have any casualties while you were out," he remarked seriously, taking the mirror from my hands. "Morale's been low, but that was to be expected." I sighed as I tried to wipe the sweat from my forehead, failing miserably. "When can I get back out there?" I asked, trying to shuffle my limbs out from under the blanket. "Nope, nuh-uh," Lew held me down and stopped my escape. "You're under a 48 hour watch, Doc's orders." I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Fine," I mumbled, and Lew chuckled.

"I'm going to go tell Gene you're up and awake," he said, stepping towards the stone stairs that led up to the surface. "Until then, just stay here, okay?" I nodded, closing my eyes against the wave of exhaustion. I felt pathetic. This was no way to be in a war zone, let alone with the men nearby and needing my help. I huffed and tried to imagine how difficult it would be to sneak out of the cathedral with half of my body still asleep.

"Eloise?" a gentle voice asked off to the side, and I looked to see Lip peeking around the wall. "Hey, Lip!" I said weakly, smiling when the anxious look was wiped off his face. "Welcome back to the real world, Wheezy," he said jovially as he entered, holding a steaming cup of something in his hands. "How ya feeling?"

"I'm okay, getting back to feeling all of my limbs," I said dryly, and he chuckled, looking relieved. "Glad to hear everything is working again," he settled the cup of soup into my hands, and I leaned into the steam. "We've been lost without our nurse."

"Lip, be honest," I said warily, looking at him with serious eyes. "What have I missed?"

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair. "First of all, Joe's been a holy terror. Won't let anyone share his foxhole, barely shows up to meals, always angry. He and Bill got into it last night, Bill made a crack about you trying to lighten the mood, and Joe took offense, and before I knew it they were punching the living daylights out of each other. Everyone's been really quiet, on the lookout for more Krauts that could be wandering around the woods." I took a tentative sip of the soup, and my stomach grumbled painfully as I realized how hungry I was. I quickly slurped it down and handed the cup back to Lip. "Thanks for that," I motioned as he set it on Winters's makeshift desk.

"You're welcome. Look, we just want to know," he glanced around, clearly uncomfortable. "That Kraut... he didn't hurt you out there did he?" I narrowed my eyes before his meaning struck me. "Oh, no. No. He just roughhoused me, thankfully," I replied, and Lip nodded, relieved. "Good, because if he had, the entire company would have revived him and killed him all over again."

"He's dead?" I asked, confused. I had heard a shot ring out, but my memory was foggy. Lip nodded. "Shifty got him. Thank God." Lip stood and rubbed his hands together, awkwardly. "I should get back to the line," he said, smiling gently at me and making his way outside. "Lip, wait," I called, and he turned to me. "Don't tell the men I'm up yet, alright? I don't want them to desert their foxholes and come see me, it would be distracting." He chuckled and shook his head. "You're already distracting, Wheezy. But I understand." He strode quickly out of the church.

I laid there the whole day, trying to nap but distracted by the sound of artillery and the shouting of men in the distance. I itched to go out there, to help them, but I was still too weak to get up. Around nightfall, I had finally gotten my legs mobile enough to walk around the church. Slowly, struggling the entire time, I donned my gear next to my bed and buttoned up my jacket. I was going to go out there if it was the last thing I did.

But the nurse stopped me before I could escape. "You can't go out there, not like that," she scolded, and I sighed. "I know you're trying to do your job, just like I'm trying to do mine, but I need to get back to the men. They need me there as a medic. I can't just sit around, I'll heal on my feet!" She eyed me as I protested, and finally huffed as she felt my forehead. "Well, you still have a fever, but I guess there is nothing I can do to stop you." She looked me up and down critically. "What is your name?"

"Eloise," I replied, smiling at my first encounter with another woman in months. "_Et quel est votre nom?_"

"Renee," she replied happily, and I nodded. "_Merci de m'avoir aidé, Renee,_" I said, and she patted my arm gently before walking away to tend to another man wailing in pain.

I stumbled out of the church, and saw a jeep screech in, driven by Sink's driver. "Hey!" I called out weakly, and limped up to him. "Any chance you could get me back to the line?" He nodded distractedly and motioned to the back. "Yeah, hop on - I gotta drop off these request forms, but then I'll take you." He leaped out of the car and strolled off into the melee of people milling about. My head swam as he hopped back into the jeep a little while later, and then with a great lurch, we were off, the winter wind for once feeling wonderful against my feverish head.

The twilight cast a gray glow over the forest, and I shivered, the fever still raging in my head. Hobbling down from the jeep and sending an appreciative wave towards the driver, I trudged slowly through the thick permafrost towards the sounds of the men's voices, the snow beginning to come down in flakes that landed on my eyelashes.

I saw Gene first, sitting by himself against a tree and watching the groups of men giggle, huddling into himself. Dominguez was scurrying around, scooping something into the cups of the men as they joked. "These smell like my armpit!" I heard Penk exclaim. "At least your armpit's warm," Skip mumbled, waving a piece of bread around. "Joe, be honest, what's in these things anyway, huh?" Malarkey asked. "Nothing you won't eat, Malarkey!" Joe said as he stalked off. They started cracking Hinkel jokes, and I rolled my eyes as I continued their way. I wheezed slightly as I came near, and suddenly Babe looked up, locked eyes with me, and scrambled backwards. "Shit!" he yelled, and the other men stared at me with wide eyes as I stood looking back at them.

Gene got up slowly, arms outstretched towards me. "Eloise?" he asked carefully, questioningly, and I took another stumbling step forward. "Hey..." I said, grabbing onto his arm and smiling weakly. "How in the hell did you get past everyone in Bastogne?" he asked, putting a supporting arm around my waist as he led me to the circle of men. The boys just stared at me as I settled down onto the ground. "I'm pretty sneaky," I mumbled, my head swimming as he pressed a hand to my forehead. "Damn it, you're burning up," he swore, and titled my head back to look in my eyes. "Those freckled spots are still there." He waved a hand in front of my face. "And you can see normally?" I nodded, glancing over towards the men.

They were quiet, even as Gene checked me out. "Well," I said tentatively, cracking a smile at their pale faces. "I'm not dead." Malarkey snorted, shaking his head and breaking out in a chuckle of disbelief. "I'll be damned," Skip said, smiling widely. "You just can't be killed, can you?"

"I don't know about that," I said drowsily, smiling back at them. Babe shuffled near me. "Eloise, I -" he started, but I held up a hand. "It's okay, Babe," I replied. "You couldn't have known." I looked over towards them all, sobering. "Where's Joe?" I asked slowly, and they exchanged glances. "He's been taking every volunteer opportunity to be on the front line," Skip said, glancing towards me. "He won't come back to camp." I sighed, and nodded. I knew as much, but the fact that he was deliberately putting himself in danger was distressing. "Does he know?" Penk asked, and I shook my head. "No, I told Lip not to tell anyone, I didn't want to start a riot." Gene placed a hand on my back, and I looked up at him. "I don't think you should go up there," he said seriously, and I glowered at him. "I'm going, Gene. Okay?" I told him, and his shoulders dropped defeatedly. "Not alone, you're not," Don said, standing up and shouldering his rifle. "I'll take her," he said to Gene seriously, and he nodded and sighed. "Fine, go."

* * *

We hit a couple of deep snowdrifts walking towards the front, and I had to lean on Don as my breaths came in short bursts, my lungs aching from effort. "You okay?" he would ask again and again, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. "You wanna stop?" But I would just shake my head 'no', and we would walk on.

When I could see the clearing in front of us, there was a rustle in the underbrush. "Flash," came Joe's flat voice, void of emotion, and my heart began to beat against my ribs. "Thunder," replied Don, and with a nod from me, walked backwards and headed back to camp.

I walked towards the little encampment, the snow crunching under my staggering steps. Nearing the foxhole, I dropped down onto my knees with a little grunt, and began to crawl, keeping my head low. "What do you want, Malarkey?" he grumbled, and I paused to take a breath. I could see his profile looking grimly over his rifle towards the German side, paying no attention to me. As I sat there and wheezed, I saw him turn and squint into the darkness. "Malarkey?" he asked again, and I laughed quietly. "Not quite," I replied.

He climbed out of his foxhole and skidded towards me, kneeling down next to me in the snow. "Oh my God," he swore, grabbing me and dragging me towards the foxhole. We landed inside clumsily, and he quickly pulled me up and leaned me against the wall, looking at me incredulously. We sat there in silence for a moment, heaving for breath as we stared at each other. Wordlessly, I extended a hand out to him and he grabbed it, kissing my bare palm before slipping an arm around my back and pulling me to his chest. He held on tightly as I snuggled down into the folds of his jacket, inhaling deeply and smiling. His hands cradled my head and rubbed circles on my back as he shook, from cold or surprise I didn't know.

"I'm awake," I whispered, looking up to see him sitting with his eyes closed. "I can see that," he said jokingly, his voice cracking as he opened his eyes and looked down at me in despair. "I thought you wouldn't, I thought you would..." he broke off, and looked out towards the line, and then back to me. "I know," I replied sadly, a brought a shaky hand to his face. He grabbed it gently, frowning when he felt how clammy I was. "Are you sick?" he asked angrily. I nodded after a moment, and he scowled at me. "What the hell are you doing out here?" he questioned, feeling my forehead. "Shit, baby, you're burning up." Despite the seriousness in his voice, I wheezed out a giggle. "What?" he asked. I shook my head. "'Baby'," I commented, smiling widely. "You don't like it?" he said, sounding a little wounded, but with great effort I leaned up and kissed him lightly. "No, I love it. I just never thought you'd be one for pet names," I said. Joe shrugged. "I think I can call my girl whatever I want," he said haughtily, and I rolled my eyes, grinning slowly.

His thumb caressed my cheek softly. "Thought I'd never see that smile again," he said gruffly, and I leaned into him. "I heard you, you know," I commented, and he stiffened. "You heard me?" he replied, and I nodded. "Yeah, when I was under, just bits and pieces." There was a beat of silence. "I also heard you went a little wild out here."

"It doesn't matter," he tried to say, but I turned his face gently towards mine. "I love you," I said, touching my forehead to his, and he closed his eyes. "And I know you love me too, but you can't go haywire if something happens to me. The men need you, you're one of the best," I finished, and Joe nodded solemnly. "I couldn't help it," he muttered. "The anger just took over, and it didn't help that Speirs was always lurking around. I was paranoid he was trying to sneak by me and see you, so I posted up beside your bed and watched everyone who came in and out. He didn't come back after that."

"I told him off in Holland. I don't know why he still tries," I countered, exhaustion slowly seeping into my bones. I yawned widely, and rested my face against the rise and fall of Joe's chest. "The thrill of the chase," Joe growled. "Well, I'm not running, because I've already been caught," I said snidely, and Joe laughed, sounding relieved and surprised. "You are quite the catch," he snarked, and I kissed his neck. "I missed you," he hummed happily. I fisted a hand in my jacket and sighed, content for the first time all day. "And I just want you to know, you're not going anywhere without me now. If someone tries to fucking touch you, I want to be there to shoot their hands off myself." I rolled my eyes, but smiled at the idea and Joe leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on my pulse point on my neck. My breath caught in my throat as he moved down the column of my neck, but stopped at my collarbone. "You are in no condition to continue this tonight, Sergeant Saylor," he remarked dryly as I glued myself to him.

"I know," I said slowly. "But would you be entirely against the idea of taking me in a foxhole?" I tried my hardest to keep my face neutral while I watched his mouth drop open, the heat of his flush spreading up his neck as his hand trailed down my back and rested there. "I will never understand what it is about foxholes that makes you so eager," he joked, kissing me firmly on the lips. I just shrugged. "I like the danger, and the intimacy," I replied, feeling a little tired as my head throbbed. "Oh, ow." I pressed a hand to my head, and he cradled me in his arms.

"Go to sleep," his gravelly voice rasped along my ear. "I'll keep you safe. Don't worry." The falling snow scattered softly in front of us, and I drifted off listening to our combined breathing. _Thank you_, I thought to whoever was listening. I was not surprised when a minute later, something answered me. _You're welcome. _

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

**The drama though. More to come! Stay fabulous. Happy FIFA to all of my readers! May your wildest football dreams come true. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Once again, your reviews make me a happy lady as per the usual. It's hard for me to do these chapters because I get very into character, and that makes me extremely sad and depressed. But I'm trucking through, slowly but surely! **

* * *

**PART TWO**

_'Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.' - Norman Cousins_

* * *

Trudging through the snow the next morning, I made my way to our designated meal area for 'breakfast', which in reality had dwindled down to a piping hot bowl of chicory coffee in the last few weeks. Joe followed me like a shadow, making good on his promise to never leave my side. My fever had subsided, but I could still feel the clammy sweat underneath all of my layers of clothing, and I knew I wasn't completely well yet.

The men had already bunched into a line, jostling for positions as they waited for their coffee. No one noticed as Joe and I walked up, too busy griping and grumbling about the cold, about how hungry they are, and mostly about Dike. Joe nudged me to the back of the line, putting me in front of him. Gene turned to look at us and gave me an appraising once-over. His usually-bright eyes were dull and tired, weary from all the extra work he must have been doing since my absence. I immediately felt guilty, and I was determined to do my share of treating men, and then some, to make up for my terrible track record in Belgium.

"You certainly look better," he said, reaching out and putting a hand to my forehead. "Still a bit feverish, though."

"Well, I feel better than I did yesterday," I smiled lightly, but Gene just looked down and nodded to himself, turning away. I would have to talk to him later about what was bothering him. I sorely missed the old Gene that had always been so jovial and willing to dance back in England and Toccoa. I sighed and turned to look back at Joe, poking him in the side. "You think maybe Dominguez might have a piece of bread or something? I think it could help me get my energy back up," I stated hypothetically, but Joe smirked.

"Hey, Joe!" he hollered up the line, and Dominguez turned to look at him grumpily. "You got a baguette for the Living Dead Girl back here?" Heads whipped around as the men turned to stare incredulously at me, and I glared at Joe for being so dramatic as I felt a massive blush spreading across my face.

"Jesus, Mary, and the Holy Saint Joseph!" I heard Bill swear joyfully as he came striding our way, grabbing me by my upper arms and pulling me into a soul-crushingly strong embrace. "Hello!" I squeaked out, gasping for air, and watching as all the other guys I hadn't seen last night come striding to me to come get a look. Joe pried Bill's arms off of me after a moment, his face stony but staying calm. "Watch it, Guarnere, she's delicate," he said in all seriousness, and Bill complied, stepping back and knocking me on my helmet. "No offense, kid, but we thought you was a gonner!"

Joe scowled beside me but I grinned. "So did I, actually, but I decided to get back up and come join y'all for round two out here," I replied, and he chuckled. "So you're okay?" a worried Buck asked from the back, and I nodded. "Yeah, for the moment, I'm alright."

"No offense, Princess, but you kind of gave us all a heart attack out there," George piped up, rolling his eyes at me. "Try not to get kidnapped anymore, okay? It's a real pain in the ass." The men chuckled and I shoved him lightly. I saw Shifty standing off to the side, looking down sheepishly, and I slowly ambled my way over towards him. "Shifty?" I asked lightly, and smiled as he looked up at me. "Thank you, for everything."

Shifty grinned down at his feet and shrugged. "Well, I couldn't let some Kraut shoot you, could I?" he asked in his gentle drawl, and I squeezed his shoulder. "You could have," I joked, and he laughed. I walked back over to Joe and the others, looking around. "So what happened when I was out?"

"Well there was some snow, and then there were some explosions..." Hoob said flippantly, and I giggled. "And then some more explosions, and what happened after that, Bull?" Tab called out.

"Huh...oh yeah, more goddamn snow," Bull said stoically, and I just shook my head. "Some things never change, huh boys?" I asked, and soon everyone was chuckling and smiling to themselves, and I smiled. Even Joe looked more upbeat, and smiled when I looked up at him. It was good to be back.

"Well I'll be damned!" I heard Harry's voice call out, and he walked up beside us, Dike trailing behind. "She lives!" I laughed as he knocked my helmet off my head and ruffled my hair affectionately. "I sure do," I replied, watching curiously as Dike took one sweeping look at us, and then walked right on by, mumbling to himself about making a phone call. I watched him stumble off into the morning with a critical eye. "At least that didn't change when I was out," I mumbled to Harry, and he nodded and shot me a look. "You're telling me," he grumbled, and Joe banged his ladle on the steaming pot. "Do you guys want coffee or not?" he asked snarkily, but sending me a wink as we all lined up again. Joe played with the ends of my hair as we stood in line, and I let out a contented sigh. I was finally back where I belonged.

* * *

The peace didn't last long though.

"MEDIC!" a pained voice screamed through the din of the artillery hitting the trees around me, and I jumped forward at attention, but Joe grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me backwards. "Joe!" I called out over the noise, looking back at his determined eyes. "I know what you said before, and I know this is hard, but I have to go do my job!" He looked as if he was going to argue at first, but then nodded his head and hunkered down as I sprinted out of the foxhole and towards the source of the screams.

Doc was already there when I arrived, and I slid in next to him as he cut through the damaged part of Skinny's trousers. Frank was radioing a jeep while I deftly worked at picking the splinters of wood out of his knee and shin. He groaned and moaned with every deft pull I gave on each piece of wood, but soon he was splinter-free and Gene nodded at me. Ripping open a sulfa packet, I handed it to him as he sprinkled it on his leg and wrapped a bandage around the wound. "Alright, let's get him out of here," he said, and I dragged Skinny out of the foxhole as gently as I could. Gene and Frank hoisted Skinny into their arms, forming a chair as they ran off the line. I followed behind, not yet as fast as I once was, but able to keep up. Suddenly Gene slipped on a puddle of ice and the pile of men went down, Skinny hollering his head off while Frank looked down at his legs in disgust. "Jesus, Skinny, you got blood all over my trousers!" he complained, and I rolled my eyes as I dashed forward to help him up. "I'm real sorry, Frank!" he yelled back as the jeep skidded up to us. I helped hoist him onto the stretcher as Gene jumped in the jeep. "Come with us, Eloise, and help me find supplies!" he yelled at me, and I swung into the back of the car as it sped off away from the line.

It was the first time I had been away from the constant barrage of artillery fire since returning to the men, and I found myself breathing deeper and calming down as the wind whipped through my hair, and I watched curiously as the woods sped past us. Already the constant feeling of the bottom dropping out was lifting from my shoulders, and I grabbed on and held Skinny as we swerved suddenly to the right. A bombed-out village came into view, and I looked around at the fiery rubble piles and shell-shocked citizens wandering the streets.

"All the tanks, artillery, all pulled back to here," our driver shouted over the roar of the engine. "There's nothing past this, we're all the way backed up to Bastogne. The Germans captured everything past this, the whole shebang!" Well, that was comforting. The further we went into town, the more devastating the impact the bombings had had on the buildings and people. "We got nothin'. They're giving the boys hooch for the pain!"

As the jeep stopped, I helped Gene lift Shifty onto another stretcher, and he cried out as we moved his leg, the limb already going stiff from the impact. "He took a mortar hit, watch the leg!" Gene chastised. "Yeah, watch the leg!" Shifty added as they carried him away, and I chuckled despite the grim circumstances. Gene just rolled his eyes at me and motioned for me to follow as we walked behind Shifty's stretcher into a church. I passed row a dead soldiers, thrown into a heap at the base of a wall, and repressed a shudder, averting my eyes up to the sky. It was difficult to tell between the smoke from the burning buildings and the oppressive gray cloud cover that prevented us from getting any drop supplies.

We carefully stepped down the stairs that led us into the inner sanctum of the church, filled to the brim with wounded men. Renee fluttered around from patient to patient as we hesitantly put Skinny on the ground. "No, put him here!" she motioned, patting a spare makeshift cot, and we gratefully settled him down on top of the flat area. "Nurse, do you have any plasma?" Gene began, but she cut him off. "One moment!" she yelled, and scampered away to another part of the church. Gene sighed tiredly, and we turned to watch her scamper into a chapel. Some poor soldier was laying on a makeshift operating table, where a black woman was moping his wounds noisily, the splattering of blood and pus echoing around us. I put a hand to my mouth as I backed away, overwhelmed from the dying and suffering men around me. Gene frowned and turned to a medic. "What's going on here? Why haven't these men been evacuated yet?" The man wearily looked at both of us. "There's no where to go from here. We're the end of the line." We both stared unbelieving as he dashed off into the inner hallways of the church.

Renee returned, pouring a glass of something and handing it to Skinny as her helper descended, checking his leg. As she gently laid a hand to his forehead, Skinny looked at us in disbelief. "I'm in heaven, Doc," he muttered, and I grinned as Gene hid a smirk behind a hand. "Nurse?" he asked, and she motioned towards him. "This way." Before Gene had a chance to scamper off, I caught his jacket. "I'm going to go scrounge for anything at the company supply office," I told him, and he broke away, nodding as he followed the nurse. "Find what you can!" he yelled back, and I took one last look around the dismal sanctuary before ascending the stone steps and breathing in the fresh air.

I hurried over to the small squat Battalion building that stood adjacent to the church, miraculously intact despite all of the bombing. Scurrying inside, I looked around for Colonel Sink's office, and knocked hesitantly on a door labeled 'EASY' in pencil. "Enter," I heard Sink's gruff voice resonate from behind the door, and I peeked my head in as the door creaked open loudly. "Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Eloise!" he exclaimed, getting up from behind his desk and ushering me in. "I didn't know you were already up and about! You had us worried there for a while." He scans me up and down with a critical eye. "You feel fit?"

"I do, sir. I woke up yesterday, got some food in me, went back to the men and doing my job," I replied, smiling. He nodded. "I regret to inform you that I wrote your parents about your state, I was unsure if you were going to make a full recovery, as it were." I grimaced as he told me this, and couldn't repress a sigh. They were going to have a cow. "What was it that you needed?"

"Sir, Easy is really low on supplies and food. Gene Roe and I came into town to take Skinny Sisk to the hospital over there, and also to look for plasma and morphine, among other things," I said, frowning. "I was wondering if there was anything in the company headquarters that I could take back to help the men."

"I'm afraid I can't give you anything," he said, and I sighed. He held up a hand. "But, if you were to find out that the officer's supply room is out back next to the previous owner's chicken coop, and if you happened to find the key-" with a glint in his eyes he broke off and produced a small key from his pocket, which he sat down on his desk. "Then it would be unfortunate, but simply just a mistake that couldn't happen ever again." He winked at me as I smiled wickedly, shaking my head as I picked up the brass key. "Sir, as always, you have been very helpful," I said, and saluted happily. Sink chuckled to himself as he opened his office door. "Just make sure to return it when I visit the line next," he replied, and I nodded. "Now go loot, sergeant, just be quick about it." The door snapped shut behind me, and I looked around to find that the office was nearly deserted. _Perfect. _

Striding down the hallway, I opened the back door to find myself in a courtyard, where true to his word, a chicken coop occupied by several fat hens sat in the corner. How they had managed to survive was beyond me. I turned to the garden shed, labeled 'OFFICER'S SUPPLY HOUSE' and jimmied the lock, popping it open successfully. I stepped into the dark little room, and closed the door behind me. Reaching in the dark, I found the light switch and flicked it on. The bulb fizzled for a moment before turning on with a low electric drone. I looked around in wide eyed wonder.

Those damn officers were holding out on us. Crates of cigarettes, chocolate, candy, saltines, K-rations, socks, scarves, boots, ammo, anything and everything a soldier could need on the front line. _And Lord knows those bastards aren't going anywhere near the front line anytime soon, _I thought to myself, scowling. I found an empty crate three feet deep and grinned wildly. "Alright, Saylor," I mumbled to myself. "Let's go shopping!"

The first thing to be sacrificed to my crate were the cartons of cigarettes oh-so-casually stacked against the side of the wall. "I think we need...four," I giggled to myself, throwing them in the box. The K-rations went next, and I decided to take an entire case, and just stack it underneath my crate. I grabbed thirty pairs of socks and thirty scarves, shoving them down so they wouldn't show over the top. Then I turned to the Hershey bars. "God bless," I moaned, inhaling the scent of cocoa and closing my eyes in bliss. Thirty of those went into the crate as well. I wrapped my hands underneath the two boxes and dead-lifted the weight, huffing slightly but regaining my balance. I staggered out into the courtyard and set the boxes on top of the little table next to the room while I locked the door. I had turned to go out the side gate and make my way onto the street when I heard gentle clucking from the coop and narrowed my eyes as a thought came to me. How bold was I willing to be today?

_Pretty bold, _I thought to myself as I set the boxes down once more and calmly opened the door to the coop. The chickens glanced at me and clucked curiously, as if they expected me to have food. I shut the door behind me. "Now, which one of you is willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for your country?" I whispered, kneeling down to look them over. Growing up on a farm, it was nothing shocking for our cook, Delia, to order me out to the barn and kill a chicken for Sunday night supper. I made my choice, and knelt down swiftly and silently and grabbed a fat hen by the neck. She only got one squawk out before I had deftly twisted her neck, and sighed as she dangled from my hand. "Sorry, chicken," I apologized, exiting the coop. "Times are tough on the front." I popped her on top of my crates, and I shouldered them as I walked slowly out onto the street.

I was just in time. Gene had exited the hospital-church as well, carrying a crate full of medical supplies. He glanced at me as he waved down a jeep. "Eloise, what in the world..." he drawled off, peering at the top of my pile. "Is that a fucking chicken?" I settled the boxes down into the back of the jeep and hopped in, holding them steady with an arm. "Uh...yeah," I said slowly, and Gene just stared at me with a dumbfounded expression. "It's for the men. You know, to eat."

"Well they can't eat it like that," he snarked, and I tilted my head. "I _know _that, Gene," I replied dryly, rolling my eyes. "Come on, let's get back to the front. Did you get the medical supplies?"

"Yeah, they're in here," he said, and behind him the nurse from before traipsed from within the building. "Eugene!" she called out, and he turned around as she threw a little bar of chocolate at him. "_Chocolat," _she called, and her eyes flickered up towards me. "_Pour vous et Eloise," _she added, and I raised my hand in a wave. Gene nodded and smiled, and then hopped up into the jeep. We sped out of the ruined city, and I kept a hand on top of my chicken to keep it from escaping. _Not like it could, _I thought cheekily.

"So, you and Renee...?" I asked him, and he shot a glare at me. "Please," he said, exasperated. "Nothing like that happened." I shrugged. "She seems pretty fond of you, that's all. It wouldn't hurt, making a friend in town," I said delicately, trying to encourage him to branch out and quit his parade of solitude, but not wanting to push him too far. "Especially one who could give us supplies."

Gene snorted. "If you count ripped sheets for bandages as supplies, then yeah, sure, why not," he dug around and handed me a roll of cloth, and I shrugged. "At this point, I'll take what I can get," I said, and he nodded in agreement. The jeep roared into the clearing, and I looked with dismay as our Battalion priest wrapped up the sermon. "Oh, no! I missed it again," I groaned, hopping out as the boys got up and began to don their helmets. "That's it guys, nothing more to worry about," Skip said happily as he rose up. "If we're gonna die now, we're gonna die in a state of grace." I frowned, wondering about _my _state of grace, when Spina walked up to us. "Battalion went on a reconnaissance mission, Kraut hunting," he explained to Gene, and he unloaded his box upon him. "Alright, I'll go get them. And give the boots to Toye," he said, and shuffled off to walk away with the men. I unloaded my gear from the jeep and nodded to the driver as he backed out, and made my way towards Winters's tent.

"Sir?" I called out, and he poked his head out of the flap. "Hey, Eloise," he said gently, and I smiled at the use of my first name. "What's all that?" I smiled devilishly as I entered his dugout and set the boxes gently down in the corner. "Oh, just a couple of things I found lying around that I thought we might need," I said innocently, avoiding his eyes, but I could tell he didn't buy it. "'Found' them, huh?" he scoffed, and I widened my eyes. "With help from Colonel Sink, sir," I replied, and he laughed. "He's got a soft spot for you, you know that?" he said, looking down at the dead chicken with a quirked eyebrow, but remained silent. "Well, he ought to - I was told he changed my diaper when I was a baby," I said, and Winters looked amused. "Now there's something you don't hear every day."

"I'll distribute this to the men later, if you don't mind keeping it here for now, sir," I said, and he nodded. "Where are the men, anyway?"

"They're doing recon," he said, shooting a glance at me that he thought I didn't see. "No one really wants to take a chance of any more mishaps with the Krauts after what happened." I nodded solemnly, biting my lip. "I bet you can guess who was the first to volunteer," he added, and I sighed.

"Corporal Liebgott?" I questioned, and Winters nodded, watching me carefully. "I know he cares for you very much," he said quietly, and I kept my expression guarded. "But you have to remember what we talked about." I smiled softly at Winters. "Thank you, sir," I replied, ducking my head a little. He motioned towards the opening of his tent. "Go find Doc Roe and join up with him. I have a feeling we'd run into trouble without you." He smiled, and I nodded at him gratefully as I swiftly exited the foxhole and crunched my way through the snowy woods.

* * *

I found Gene crouching against the base of a tree, staring angrily and pointedly out into the distance. He was waiting, just like I was always waiting, for that dreaded call of a panicked man, bleeding and scared. I stood beside him as I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. "Gene?" I asked quietly, and he grunted in response. I sighed and shuffled my feet around in the snowdrift until he reached out and stayed my boot with a hand. "What is it?" he asked, looking up at me.

"You're my best friend, and I'm worried about you," I said honestly, looking out into the distance rather than at him. I was a little scared of what he might do or say, but he sat there quietly, not moving a muscle. "Why?" he said after what seemed a lifetime, and I exhaled a breath I wasn't aware that I was holding.

"You just seem really lonely, and that makes me sad. I don't want you to feel alone," I say, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed as he put his hand over mine. "I'm not lonely, _cherie_. I got you," he replied, and I smiled down at him. "Would you do me one favor, though?" I asked, and he looked at me warily. "Just come sit with us when we all eat, okay? It breaks my heart to see you sitting there all alone." He looks at me for a second, then shrugs. "Okay, what the hell." I squeezed his shoulder, and bent to crouch down to look out into the distance with him.

"Do you love him?" Gene asks suddenly, and I look over in surprise. "Just curious. I mean, I see you two flirting all the time, but do you?" I look him in the eyes. "Yes, I do," I say slowly, smiling widely. "More than I ever thought I could care for someone in my whole life. Sometimes I can't believe it." I fell silent, and looked at the ground. "He's always going on and on about how he worries about me, and he does have a point - I tend to fall into dangerous situations," I paused as Gene snorted. "But I bet he has no idea how much I worry about him. Not only about getting hurt or getting killed, but about his anger. I'm not scared of him, but I'm scared one day that volatile anger he keeps deep inside him is going to take over, and I'll lose him forever." Gene is staring at me intensely, brow furrowed and listening carefully. "I'm very paranoid. I try not to talk about it."

Gene and I fall silent again, and back into the mood of tense patience. "Why wouldn't they let you go with them?" I asked, the logic behind him sitting against a tree while a squad goes out without a medic confusing me. I flinch as bullets ring from the distance, but Gene doesn't move. He's frozen again into a hard stare, glowering out towards the place where he knows men might be killed. Out of the grim gray mist, Dike strides forward and Gene stands. "What's happening, sir?" he calls out, and Dike just shakes his head, not stopping as he strides past. "We're pulling back, we made contact. I gotta get to the CP," he calls, and Gene and I stare at him in disgust. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I hold my helmet in my hands. "Goddamn it! I hate being useless like this!"

The men began to run towards us, shouting as they went. But before they got too far, a rogue bullet slipped through with an evil _wish _and cuts down a man right in front of us. Gene and I sprung forward and raced towards him, and Gene got there first, flipping him over. I ripped a bandage from my pack as Gene hastily pushed aside his clothes to find a gushing wound in his stomach. I unraveled the bandage and pressed it to his stomach while Gene secured the ties. Around us, the chaos of the men deciding if they should go back for Julian made my heart sink. _And we weren't there, _I thought bitterly as I cradled his face in my hands. "Eloise, move back, I got this," Gene says, looking pained, and I hesitate. "Go!" he yells, and I'm off, sprinting towards George or Frank to call a jeep.

* * *

Everything is silent during 'lunch'. The men sit, coughing wearily, ladling out coffee from their helmets and glancing around dejectedly. Gene, despite what I made him promise earlier, was sitting off by himself, separated from the group and eyeing Babe with concern in his eyes. I was worried as well, but I had chosen to sit next to him, not touching, just giving him the comfort of my presence. _Small comfort, _I thought sadly to myself as I thought about Julian. I had wanted to go back and see if I could take him from the line, but Johnny Martin had deemed it too dangerous. And I wasn't about to argue with him.

Winters walked up and took in our bleak gathering. "We couldn't get to Julian, Captain," Johnny said as he met Winters near the group. "We tried, Babe tried, we couldn't get to him." Johnny backed off, and with an appreciative glance at me, settled down next to us in the circle. Winters stood for a moment before crouching down next to us. "Hey Bull, I'm going to sit down with you guys here," he mumbled, settling himself down. Instantly I felt comforted having him with us, and I looked over and gave him a sad smile. He nodded back, and looked off into the distance. I glanced at Babe and noticed he was staring at Gene menacingly, his gaze blaming Julian's death on his absence. I looked over at Gene with worried eyes, but he just stared at the ground, the tip of his nose growing more red. He took out the little bar of chocolate and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. I watched sadly, and turned to look back at my men. Joe ambled up next to me, and took the side not occupied by Babe. He held his coffee cup gently out to me, and I took it and sipped slowly, savoring the warmth. Handing it back to him, he covered his fingers with mine and held them there for a second before taking the cup from my hands. I leaned into him slightly and he sighed, nudging me back. I felt safe then, with him next to me, and the men around me.

Winters rose us unsteadily, and shouldered his rifle. "I'm proud of you all," he remarked quietly, and everyone looked up at him. "I know it's hard out here, but we just have to hang tough." He nodded at all of us, and walked off a few paces before looking back at me. "Oh, and Sergeant Saylor?"

I looked up in surprise. "Yes sir?"

"At your earliest convenience, please come retrieve your dead chicken from my foxhole," he said, eyes glittering a bit as he walked away. There was a beat of stunned silence where the men all looked towards me, and I opened my mouth to reply. But Skip beat me to it. "What," he said, wheezing out a chuckle. "In the actual fuck?"

And just like that, the mood lifted a little bit. Joe turned to look at me incredulously. "Is that what you were doing when you were gone? Murdering livestock?" he said, and the men chuckled collectively. I just raised my hands in shock. "Look, I just figured we could make some soup or something, so I took matters into my own hands!"

"I'll say," Bull quipped, and the other men cackled. Don shook his head and looked at me, completely bemused. "You never fail to entertain, Princess," he said, and I stood up, settling my helmet on my head.

"Fine, make fun of my chicken," I said haughtily, while the men shared looks and eye rolls beneath me. "I won't share, and I also won't share the other stuff I found, since no one appreciates my scavenging abilities."

"Woah, hey now," Bill said, standing up. "We never said that!"

I looked at their interested faces, and smiled mischievously. "Okay, I may or may not have stumbled across a treasure trove in Bastogne that may or may not have been in the 'Officers Only' section of the supply room," I said flippantly, and the men whistled. "Look at you go, breaking the rules," George said sarcastically, winking. "That doesn't sound like you at all!"

A few minutes later I was marching back with my boxes and the chicken towards camp, the men laughing hysterically when they saw the plump hen on the top of the box. Bill and Frank came over to look at it critically. "What do you do with it now?" Frank asked curiously, and I snorted. "You city kids, you chop its head off and then you pluck it, carve it up, and dress it until it's ready to be cooked," I replied, and Bill backed up a bit. "That'll be your job," he said, disgusted, and I laughed.

"But okay, let's see what I have here...okay, box of K-rations," I said, handing it over to George, who ripped it open and taking them out. "And a heck of a lot of chocolate." Joe jumped up and took one reverently out of my hands. "You're a miracle worker," he said giddily, and I winked. "Scarves and socks for those who don't have them, or need extra," I continued, handing them to Joe Toye. "Oh, Joe, did you ever get those boots Doc had for ya?"

"Yeah, thanks," he nodded at me, and I bent down to retrieve the last precious item. "And just for y'all, only because I love y'all _so much -_" I broke off and giggled as Skip wolf whistled. "I got y'all four cartons of Lucky Strikes." I finished in a casual jumble, holding them up in my hands. "Happy early Christmas from me!"

"Oh my God," Don mumbled, shaking his head. "Can I marry you when the Father comes back around?" The men laughed as I saw Joe shoot Don a look from the corner of my eye, and Don winked back at him. "You'll have to get in line, Malarkey," I said, rolling my eyes and handing out the carton. "Now, let's see what we can do about this chicken."

In the end, Joe Dominguez and I ended pairing up together to create our culinary masterpiece of chicken soup and crusty bread that he had ungracefully wrestled from a villager in Bastogne. The men lined up in droves, and the chicken gave everyone a morale boost. Of course, all women know that true happiness lies in a full stomach, and the men were certainly cheerful that evening. Everyone except for Babe.

* * *

"I'm worried about him," I said sleepily as Joe and I huddled under the blanket in our foxhole. I felt his cheek rest on the top of my head as he inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. "Mmmhmm," he hummed in reply, tugging me closer to him as I nestled into his chest. His hand came up to tuck the blanket over my shoulders. I traced a lazy pattern on his chest with my hand underneath, where our body heat miraculously kept us warm through the night.

"As long as Gene's with him, he should be okay," I yawned, and then sighed. "I know I should be out there making the rounds -" but Joe interrupted me, shaking his head and clutching me closer. "Nope, you're not leaving," he said lightly, but I knew he meant it, and I was too comfortable to move, anyway. "Fine with me," I whispered, and leaned up to kiss his jaw gently.

"God, I'm lucky," he said sleepily, and I listened to his heart beat in his chest. "I got my girl in my foxhole, warm chow for dinner, and I haven't been blown to bits...yet," he joked, but I frowned. "I'm not going to let you get blown to bits on my watch, got it?" I grumbled into his jacket, and lifted my chin and kissed me lazily. "I won't let you get blown to bits on my watch, either," he replied, and ducked in for another slow kiss. I felt all the heat rush to my stomach as my mind wandered, and I groaned unhappily. "What?" he asked, fully aware of my frustration and failing to hide the laughter from his voice. "Something bothering you, sergeant?"

"You know full well what's bothering me," I mouthed back, and he grinned devilishly. "If you weren't so loud, I'd take you right here, right now," he growled in my ear, and I bucked up against him to torture him back, smiling when I heard him groan. His fingertips dug into my hipbones where he held me against him. "I'm not comfortable with every man in Easy company hearing what you sound like when I make you come." I gasped as his cool hands goosed the sensitive skin on my stomach as he sneaked down the front of my trousers, and stifled a moan when he found me already wet under my skivvies. "So you'd better be quiet," he whispered. I arched back into him and inhaled sharply as he flicked his fingers, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to his amusement. "Joe..." I whispered, half a warning and half out of delight as I moved against him, and he thrust his hips forward in response.

I reached back and grabbed his thigh, forcing us to stay together as I gasped lightly and writhed against him. My stomach dropped when he wound his hand through my hair, gently tugging my head to the side. I felt him lay open-mouthed kisses up and down the column of my neck, and I moaned as I threw my head back. God, how long had it been since we had the time to do this? I thought back to the first time we had been together in Holland, and suddenly, this was not enough. I forced myself to stop moving and untangled myself from his arms, turning and looking at him intensely. My hair was all over the place, and I was sure I looked like a madwoman, but I didn't care.

I kissed him hard, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing myself flush against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and rubbed against him, smiling as he gasped out. _Who's the quiet one now? _I thought to myself, resuming my own personal attack on his neck, his fingers traveling up my shirt and underneath my brassiere, laughing lightly in delight as he thumbed over a nipple. Smoothly, I undid his belt and slipped a hand down into his trousers. "Christ," he hissed as he bucked up into my hand, and I stilled my motions for a moment to lean into his ear. "Joe," I whimpered, my free hand grabbing on to the lapel of his jacket. "Please."_  
_

"Please _what__?_" he replied, replaying our night in Holland. I looked him dead in the eye. "I want you to fuck me in this foxhole," I said, the dirty talk egging me on. I watched as his eyes widened and he growled as he pushed me on my side, facing away from him. He ripped my pants down and pulled me back against him, entering me in one swift motion. Joe thankfully clapped a hand over my mouth before I could cry out, and dragged me against him roughly. He bit down on my neck hard as he pounded into me, and my heart beat wildly in my chest, thrilled by this wild, utterly ruthless side of him. It wasn't long until I was on the edge, and I started panting, my legs twitching with the intensity of the rising wave of heat in the pit of my stomach. "I can feel you, oh God," he moaned out, keeping his pace. "It feels fucking good, baby." I threw back my head onto his shoulder as my toes actually began to curl. "Joe, I..." I dwindled off, never finishing as the wave broke, and I stifled a cry as my mouth opened and my vision went bright, seeing nothing and everything all at once. Joe grunted behind me, gripping me tighter as his breath came in short bursts on my neck. His body went slack and I felt him stiffen inside me, and we lay there gasping for air and sweaty for a few minutes, his arms wound around my waist. "Holy shit," I swore weakly, and looked back at him. "You are the very best."

He leaned forward to kiss me sensually, one hand cupping my cheek as he leaned his forehead against mine. "You are a work of art," he said in a gravelly voice. "And I love you so much it hurts." I smiled lazily, completely content as he finally slid out of me. I took stock of his ruffled clothes and brought a hand up to my hair. "We're a mess," I said dolefully, but Joe just pulled me back to his chest. "Yeah, but I made you look like that," he said smugly, and I laughed a tired giggle. We both sighed as we snuggled back down into our blanket, and I closed my eyes. The hiss of a flare illuminated our foxhole, but I wasn't distracted or worried. I had already drifted off into sleep, satisfied and warm.

* * *

**Apologies for the chicken violence for those of you who love chickens/are vegetarians. Working on the next chapter! **


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello all, just a few words:**

**It has come to my attention via several reviews that there are a few holes in my plot line, of which I was already aware, but now notice that it will be difficult to continue forward with this story unless I go back and rewrite said plot holes to be accurate and less fantastical. That being said, this story is going into a brief hiatus until I can fix said issues, which may take a little while to muse over. I have no intention of abandoning this story, so I beg your patience. And thank you all once again for being so supportive! I'll get back to writing new chapters as soon as possible. **

**Sincerely,**

**Me**


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty chapters! And the summer's almost halfway over. Thanks for the reviews! So far the consensus is pretty clear - everybody likes sex. **

**Also, I have finished my rewrites, so I highly recommend y'all just take a peek at Ch.9-18 (tall orders, I know!) because I changed things up just a little bit to make it more realistic. Much thanks to Roses887 for her great critiquing and ideas on how to make this story better. Also, in regards to story requests, I totally hear them, but for now I'm focused on this trilogy. I am considering them though, so please feel free to send me more!**

**Anyway, let's get back to the impending terribleness and doom that will crush our souls. **

* * *

My eyes snapped open as a stray artillery shell erupted through the dense silence of the morning, and I blinked drowsily as the light infiltrated through the cracks of the raincoat above us. I kept very still and gauged Joe's breathing next to me, and determined he was still asleep. I gently tried to untangle myself from his arms that captured me to his chest, smiling to myself sheepishly as I recalled last night's events. _God, Saylor, you really can't reel it in, can you? _I thought to myself, and despite trying the keep the peace of the morning intact, I snickered through my nose.

Joe's arms tightened around me and crushed me to his chest. "Where'd you think you're going, huh?" his groggy voice rasped out jokingly. I squealed as he rolled over on top of me, trapping me underneath him. "You can't get away that easily," he whispered, and peppered my face with kisses, making me giggle. "I didn't want to wake you up!" I protested, and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you failed," he grumbled, but kissed me sweetly nonetheless. He leaned back and studied my face, eyes flickering down to my neck. "You might want to wear a scarf today," he smirked, and the smile was wiped off my face as my hand flew to my neck. "Oh no," I groaned, pressing gently down and wincing when I hit a tender spot. "Oh God, how bad is it?" I asked, tilting my head so he could get a good view of my neck. "It's as purple as an eggplant," he said proudly, and I groaned as I tugged the edges of my jacket around my neck. "This is so embarrassing," I mumbled, but Joe just leaned back and smiled smugly. I narrowed my eyes at him and the way he kept quirking an eyebrow at the bruise. "I like it," he stated, and I glowered at him. "You only like it because it states to the world that I'm claimed territory, off limits," stated, and was validated by the look in his eyes. Joe leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to it, and I shuddered when images of last night floated into my head. "That's because you _are_ off limits," he whispered in my ear.

I shoved him off with a finger to the chest and huffed as I dug in my pack to find my scarf, while Joe smirked. I pulled the edges of the scarf higher around my neck than usual, attempting to make it look natural, but failing miserably. "Can you see it?" I asked anxiously, throwing my dirty braid over my shoulder. "Nah," he replied, still smiling to himself while I rolled my eyes. Rubbing my hands over my bleary eyes, I crouched down and peeked out from under the edges of the raincoat. "Wow, it's bright," I said, blinking hard and shrinking back from the light. There was a second before I registered what that meant. "Wait, clear skies mean..."

But I was interrupted by the drone of airplane engines overhead, swiftly approaching, and I threw the covering back, blinded by the mass amount of light. Gene stood a few feet away from our foxhole, looking up into the sky with a confused expression while the men suddenly leaped up around us, cheering and screaming. Everyone went running towards the clearing, and I paused, looking up at the clear sky in disbelief before I grabbed Gene's arm and hauled him towards the men. Joe came stumbling out of our foxhole a moment later, cursing at all of the commotion until he saw everyone hurrying towards the front.

I heard the hisses and the pops of the smoke bombs before I saw them, and the men ran out into the clearing, hollering and waving up at the fighter planes that zoomed overhead, and flew right past us towards Bastogne. I stopped at the tree line, a little out of breath from the cold, sharp morning air, but my eyes widened as two of our own planes angled down towards us. A barrage of bullets came erupting from the gunners, driving the men back from the clearing and into the trees. I crouched down as the men instinctively grabbed their rifles and fired back, while Lipton tried to contain the chaos. "Hold your fire, goddamn it!" he screeched, and I looked at them i shock as they quickly followed the other two fighters. "Sergeant I don't understand, they were our planes!" Gene protested, but Lip shushed him. "C-47's, they're bringing supplies...it's a drop! It's a drop! Come on!" He got up and pulled a bewildered looking Gene with him, and I ran after them. "Wait for me! I'm coming too!" I yelled, and the men laughed. "Bring back some more smokes from the officer's supplies, will ya?" Tab called out, and I shot him a thumbs-up as the men laughed behind me. "Will do!" I hollered back, and scampered after the retreating backs of Lip and Gene.

We rode into Bastogne triumphantly, and I held on for dear life as we swerved past giant bottomless puddles of water and supplies dropping from the sky. I watched the smoking buildings and bombed-out cars distractedly as we drove through town, finally pulling to a stop in front of the church. Gene jumped down from the jeep and jogged into the church quickly, and I slyly mused over the possibility that it was the pretty nurse, rather than the supplies, that he was eager to see. "I'm going to go help Doc," I told Lip as he hopped out with the other men to go search for supplies for the men. "We'll see you back here in a few minutes." I followed Gene down into the depths of the church, quieting instantly at the somber mood within. Despite the celebrations in the world above, there were still men dying and suffering down here, and I paused to look at a soldier whose blue face stared upward at the star-dappled ceiling. Tentatively, I reached over and gently closed his eyelids, starting when the friction shocked me. I withdrew my hand quickly, and walked away through the rows of men to find Gene.

I saw him stacking boxes off to the side in one of the little chapels, and I wove a path through crates of morphine and plasma to help him carry the load. I wandered up to his side and watched as his emotionless gaze washed over Renee, who was sitting at the bedside of a dying soldier. As she laid her hands on his head, Gene pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "Y'all are similar," he stated, nodding at his assessment. "Something about the way both of y'all touch the men, it calms them down. Except I'm willing to bet she doesn't have visions." He raised an eyebrow as I looked at him critically. "I do _not _have visions, Gene. I'm not writhing around on the ground and speaking in tongues," I spat, but he shook his head. "Whatever you say, _cherie_, but I'm sticking to my opinion."

I slapped his arm. "Come on, let's go before we get into more trouble," I said, taking one of the boxes off of his hands. I stepped down carefully from the chapel, trying to not knock any of the wounded men with the edge of the crate. But before we could get out, a trio of men came rushing down the stone stairway carrying a fallen man, his head lolling limply to the side. "Someone give us a hand here!" one of his friends yelled, and instantly the pretty nurse was striding forward, giving out orders and directing the wounded man towards the adjacent room. I stood there watching for a moment before I noticed that Gene was no longer standing behind me, and I caught the bobbing of his helmet as he ducked back into the corridor to go help the nurse.

As they ripped open his shirt, I saw that his stomach was peppered with shrapnel wounds, already oozing massive amounts of blood. Gene wiped the blood off of the man's stomach, and plunged his hand into the gaping wound, searching in vain for the artery. A splatter of blood burst from the man's mouth, and I hurried over to his head to check his vitals and his breathing. While the pretty nurse, who was now up to her elbows in blood, called out to her assistant, I pressed a finger to his throat, and felt the erratic heartbeat. _He wont make it, _I mused sadly, and dropped my fingers from his throat to tilt his head back to give him some air. The man gasped and sputtered as Gene worked ceaselessly behind me. I stared into his eyes as her assistant came, trying to put pressure on his stomach; it wasn't working, I could tell by the way the man's eyes, once trained on me, had begun to stare past me and through me into something else.

Gene was still grunting and heaving when the man died, still trying in vain to find the artery. I looked up at the blonde nurse and grimaced, shaking my head. "Gene," I said, voice coming out in a rasp. He continued to fight for the man's already-lost life. The nurse and her assistant went still, and she looked at Gene morosely until he stopped moving and finally realized he had lost the fight. Suddenly he ripped off the bandage he had been using to stop the bleeding and threw it to the ground, shouting in anger. My eyes widened at his rare show of emotion, and subconsciously I took a step back. Gene and the nurse just stared at each other, her eyes so saddened and affected, so tired of the death. I had seen that look before, reflected in his eyes, and as they stared I decided it was time to take my leave and let them be.

I stared down at my hands as I exited the church. I was a medic, too, I was affected by the blood and the gore and the screams of pain, by watching the men I considered to be my family suffer from lack of food, of warm clothing, of help. But I wasn't sad as Gene was, I wasn't as bitter as he was. My first assumption was to blame it on the fact that he simply refused to interact with the men as a friend, but I also considered that Winters was detached, but still kept his morale up. But I realized that the only reason I wasn't spiraling into despair, why I got up in the frosty mornings, why I tried so hard, was because I had Joe. Just like Winters had Nix, Lip had Harry and Buck, Bill had Babe, and Malarkey had Skip, Alex, and George. Gene had no one. _But maybe,_ I thought, _maybe he could have this nurse. _

I emerged into the fresh air, looking around for Lip and the other guys. I put my hand in my pocket and realized that I still had the key to the supply room, and turned towards the Battalion headquarters, intending to give it back to Colonel Sink. Before I could step into the street, a supply truck swerved my way, making me jump back a good three feet to avoid getting pulverized. "Hey, watch it!" I yelled out angrily, flipping the driver the bird as mumbled angrily to myself. "Lately everybody seems to want to fucking murder me around here," I grumbled, picking my way carefully across the street. the office was abuzz with activity, men swarming everywhere with papers and ringing phones going crazy on desktops. I slid through a jumble of men trying to make my way towards the colonel's office, but I was blocked by an orderly. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said in a respectful but firm tone. "I'm sorry to tell you that you can't go in there, he's having a very important phone call."

"Oh, that's fine," I replied, looking around. "But could you do me a favor? Would you mind giving this to him?" I grabbed an envelope and a pencil off a nearby desk and hastily scrawled, _Attn: Colonel Sink - With regards, Sgt. Saylor_, on the front and slipped the key inside. "Would you hand this to him at your next opportunity? It's vital that he receives this." The orderly looked at the envelope with a raised eyebrow, but took it anyway. "I will make sure it goes right into his hands," he promised, and with a smile I picked my way through the crowd to reach the door. But before I could get any further, a man slammed into me from the side, and I dropped my box of medical supplies. "Shit!" I cursed as little syrettes of morphine and bandages flew everywhere. I dropped down to my knees to start gathering up my wayward items when the man who had caused the chaos squatted down to help me, holding out a lone syrette for me to take. "Sorry," he said gruffly, and I looked up, dreading who I'd see.

_Oh Jesus fucking Christ. _Of course, it's Speirs. I try my hardest to avoid eye contact as I snatch the syrette from his fingers, hastily scraping up and dumping every little lone object into my crate and hastening to get up. He rises as I do, and I can feel him watching me even though I'm staring at the ground hard enough to burn a hole clear on through to China. "Thank you, sir," I say brusquely as I shift the box in my hands, nod to him without actually looking in his eyes, and make a beeline for the door and my freedom. Surprisingly, he lets me go, and I let out a little sigh of relief as I reemerged into the bustling streets of Bastogne.

All the worry I had for Gene left my heart as I approached the church and saw him and Renee sitting together in front of a snowdrift, talking unhappily, but relaxed. There was no smooth way I could glide into that conversation, so I stood there for a minute, contemplating where to go in the meantime. Watching jeep after jeep take men and supplies to the front, I had a sudden urge to rejoin Easy Company. I was beginning to realize that the longer I stayed away from them, the more anxious I felt. They were my people, and I belonged with them.

A truck drove up, carrying wounded men in from the forest, and Renee jumped up to help them hobble down into her bunker. Gene sat there for a moment more but jogged forward to go help her in the depths of the church. I thrummed my fingers against the wooden crate and bit my lip hesitantly before jogging over towards the idling truck. "Hey, y'all going back to the line soon?" I called up, and the driver shielded his eyes with a hand as he peered down at me. "Yeah, what outfit?" he called back, and I scrambled into the back.

"Easy Company, 506th!" I yelled, and a few minutes later we were heading back towards the fray.

* * *

The night was silent. _Silent night, holy night... _some sacrilegious area of my head began to sing, and I hushed it with a scowl. There was nothing holy about this night. The snowflakes drifted down alongside the quiet, and I sat perched on the shallow end of our foxhole, scanning the area around us with a wary eye.

"What are you waiting for?" Joe asks, hunkered down into himself in the deepest part of the foxhole, his cigarette end the only light in our darkened cave. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and in the wind it flutters against my neck. "You know what I'm waiting for," I said sagely, gripping my bag to my chest for warmth. "I don't like the quiet."

Joe doesn't offer a reply, and I pluck a stray flurry of snow from my eyelashes. "Everything is so white," I whispered, shivering. "White is so quiet, I didn't expect that. Never snowed back home. Always so warm. I don't like the quiet." The words disassociate from my brain on the way to my mouth, and I find myself blathering about nothing.

"Sometimes I feel like a little bug, like a flea, out here... like I'm too little and insignificant to be making such a fuss, to launch artillery at, do you?"

Once again, no response, but it doesn't agitate me. I could feel his eyes on me off to the side, but I couldn't break away from the haze of my thoughts as I stared through the snow drifts, through the trees, not really seeing anything. And I thought about my life, and my future.

I was never the girl whose main goal was to get married and have a lot of babies, and yet here and now, I couldn't think of anything else. Unbeknownst to Joe, I had been having reoccurring dreams of bouncing toddlers with dark hair and beautiful dark eyes on my hip, walking around barefooted in a mystery house. I always awoke disappointed. Yet, here I was, teeter-tottering. I was constantly comparing and contrasting being with someone who would be my partner for life (clearly Joe) and just being alone. It was less of a physical thing than a mental issue. Mentally, I had no idea what was happening to me. I prayed to God every night that this wasn't my brain attacking itself, that I wouldn't end up in the loony bin after the war ended. I didn't want to hurt him like that.

So I contemplated the idea of 'alone'. I was always alone as a kid: in a crowd of people, I could still be wrapped up in the world I lived in inside my mind. While I was falling in love with Joe, I made space for him in my head, but most of the time people never recognized that they had been allotted a place in the most exclusive part of my heart. I had failed before, had my soul crushed before, because I just expected them to understand and act accordingly. It was always uncomfortable for me, but I would do it anyway - they would become my priority. And I glanced over towards Joe's shadow, which had leaned up against the wall of the foxhole and was slumped in sleep, knowing that he was _the_ priority.

I could be strong, for him, even though he would never admit that he needed support. I was willing to give up being alone, only for him. I scooted a bit closer, and after verifying that he was asleep after my nonsensical babbling, I carefully lifted up the cover on our foxhole and slipped out into the snowy night.

As I walked, I shoved my hands into my pockets and thought about the voice. It had gone quiet after I had been walloped in the head by the German lieutenant, and I wondered if shaking my marbles up a little had solved my problem. Something told me that it was not so. No, it was more of a spiritual being rather than a mental, physical defect. I chewed on my lip and pondered why it was keeping its silence, not that I was eager to hear any more voices than I needed to.

A lone figure emerged out of the trees, and I saw Gene's slink away towards the men. I jogged after him, trying to catch up and ask him about the conversation he had with Renee earlier, but he escaped through the haze of the night. I huffed, and a giggle floated up from below me. I glanced down to see George, Smokey, and Don all huddled together like sleepy puppies, disoriented and grumbling. "Too slow, Princess," George yawned, shaking his head and forcing his eyes wide afterwards. "What are you doing out here, anyway?" Don asked, and I knelt down. "Just checking up on my boys," I said with a little smile, and pinched George's cheek before he could swat me away. I dodged the blow and laughed, slipping into their foxhole. "Who said you were invited?" Don said lightly, and I elbowed Smokey to scoot over. "Me," I replied, and snuck under their shared blanket. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," Smokey grumbled, shoving half of his face under the edge of the blanket. "Just feeling like a sitting duck."

"I know what you mean," I mused, gazing up at the would-be stars, if I could see them past the snow clouds. I could go the rest of my life without ever seeing a flake of snow again.

"Hey, would you keep it down over there? Some of us are actually trying to sleep - you know, _during the nighttime_," I heard Skip say snarkily and I threw a snowball over in their direction halfheartedly. Sighing, I got up and tucked the blanket around them. "Thanks, Mom," George mumbled, and I just rolled my eyes for the four thousandth time that year as I scrambled out of their foxhole. "Night-night," I singsonged as I walked away back towards my home base. I sighed as I accidentally tripped over a branch hidden in the snowdrift, and brushed off the twigs on my jacket with numb fingertips. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever leave this frozen hell.

* * *

I crouched down next to Gene's foxhole, swapping supplies with him, when we both heard a distant rumble. Everyone within a ten foot radius looked up towards the German's encampment as well. "Oh, shit," I mumbled under my breath, slipping into the foxhole with him as we both trained our eyes on the horizon. Smokey gently picked his coffee cup from above the burner next to us, and sipped it slowly.

I heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind us. "Hey Doc, Eloise," Lip said, jogging past. "It's gonna get busy, pal." I watched him scramble up the line, yelling at the men to stay in the foxholes. Next to me, Gene had gone even more pale, if that was even possible. "Why the fuck is Lip doing this? Dike should be up here sacrificing his sorry ass, he's the goddamn lieutenant, after all," I mumbled under my breath, but Gene made no motion of hearing me. Instead, he just gripped his jacket tighter around him, never breaking his gaze from the opposite treeline.

Artillery began to land off to our side, and Smokey reached forward and adjusted his gun. I jumped when a bullet flew through his shoulder, sending him down the side of his foxhole in a slump, spilling coffee all over his lap. I scrambled out of Gene's foxhole and started running towards him, as calls for a medic came drifting through our line. Smokey's head lolled gently from behind, and Alley and Bill dragged him upwards and out, skidding to a stop beside me. Alley pulled Smokey's handgun from his jacket as I popped it open. "I got it, I'm keeping it for ya," he said, and I pushed aside layer after layer of clothing as Gene slid beside me. He looked frightened as he helped me search for the wound.

"I can't feel my legs, Gene!" he cried, and I froze for a moment before glancing at Gene, his anguished eyes meeting mine. _Paralysis_, I thought immediately. _Goddamn it. _

"Here they come!" I heard someone shout, and sure enough, the Germans were surging forward, the whites of their winter uniforms gleaming in the rare beam of sunlight. All hell exploded around us as I shooed Bill away back towards Smokey's abandoned machine gun, Gene and I tearing at his clothes to find his wound. I propped him up as Gene ripped the sleeve of his jacket open, exposing the bullet hole as he bandaged Smokey's shoulder up. He gripped my hand with his as he leaned into me, and I held his weight as best as I could. The Germans were advancing, and I felt a rising sense of panic as they neared us. We had to get Smokey out of there, and fast.

"Sergeant Lipton!" Gene yelled through the noise, and Lip suddenly appeared next to us. Smokey was bleeding through his jacket, and turning ashen. I let Lip take my place as they dragged Smokey through the fire, and I ducked and watched for as long as I could before I scanned the area for anyone else who needed help. Screams of medic filled the air as I crawled forward and lost myself in a frenzy of stray bullets and blood.

* * *

Gene never confirmed verbally that Smokey had been paralyzed, but I could see it in his eyes. I watched him anxiously from the line for chow as he sat all by himself against the base of a tree, staring out into nothing. Winters walked up and stood beside me as I set my jaw and sighed heavily through my nose.

"You doing okay, sergeant?" he asked me, and I looked at him with apprehensive eyes. "I'm holding up, sir," I replied, smiling grimly. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Of course I do, sergeant," he said kindly. "It's my job." I nodded and grinned to myself. "But do me a favor," he continued, nodding towards Gene. "Keep an eye out for Doc, will ya?"

"If you only knew, sir," I replied sadly, shaking my head. "I think he needs to get away from the line. He seems a little less..." I searched for a word, but couldn't find one. How did one phrase '_looking like he wished he was dead'_ into a singular word. "...despondent... when he's in town," I finally surmised, and Winters nodded.

A jeep pulled up, and out hopped Colonel Sink. "They're about to sit down to a Christmas Eve dinner of turkey and hooch up at Division CP, but damn if I don't like Joe Dominguez's rancid-ass beans better," he announced jovially, looking over our weary group of soldiers with pride. "Hello, Easy Company!"

"Hello, sir," we all mumbled as he shook hands with Winters and sent me a wink. I smiled back and shuffled my feet. I would never look at Bob Sink the same after he assisted me in looting.

"General McAuliffe sent a message to the entire division," he said, whipping out a sheet of paper. "Thought maybe your people would like to hear it." He extended the paper, but Winters shrugged it away. "Oh, that should be your prerogative, sir," he said respectfully, and Sink nodded. "Alright," he mumbled and turned towards us.

"Men," he began, unfolding the paper. "General McAuliffe wishes us all a Merry Christmas. What's merry about all this, you ask? Just this: we've stopped cold everything that's been thrown at us from the North, East, South, and West. Now tow days ago the German commander demanded our honorable surrender, to save the encircled U.S. troops from total annihilation. German commander received the following reply: 'To the German Commander: Nuts!'." Everyone broke out into giggles as Sink yelled the last word, and I bit my lip and smiled down at my boots. Joe winked at me from across the circle of men as he snacked on his beans. "We're giving our loved ones at home and our country a worthy Christmas present, and being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms, we're truly making for ourselves a Merry Christmas." Sink finished up and folded the paper. "Merry Christmas to y'all and God bless you," he called out, and then men cried out in a cacophony of 'NUTS!' and 'Merry Christmases!' alike. Sink strolled over to me and patted me on the shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Eloise," he said gruffly, fishing out a letter with my father's unmistakable scrawl bleeding through the front paper. "Here's a present direct from your folks." I took it from his hands and smiled brightly. "Thank you, sir," I replied. "Did you happen to get that, uh, key back?"

Sink chuckled, and withdrew his hand. "I certainly did. And you know where to find it," he said, shaking Winters's hand again before climbing back into his jeep. Joe and the guys wandered over to me. "Never knew you were such good buddies with Sink," Bill said, and I shrugged as I inspected the letter. "Old family friend," I replied as Nix strolled up to me, and rested his elbow on top of my helmet. "Um, excuse me, _sir_," I said sassily, maneuvering out from underneath his arm. "The lounge is that way." I pointed towards the German line, and Lew laughed. "What's in the letter?" Joe asked as he sided up next to me as I reentered the line for beans. "I don't know," I began to say, but grunted indignantly when he snatched it out of my hands. "Hey!" I shouted as he unfolded my letter and began to read. "Oh relax, I practically know them from everything you read out loud, anyway," he said, and I became aware that we had an audience. I gritted my teeth together as Lew's eyes shone knowingly, and turned around to face the beans with a red blush on my face.

Gene caught my eye again. Through the speech, through the hilarity, he had stayed put at his perch under the tree, constantly staring at nothing. I grabbed my mug as Dominguez filled it up with beans, and walked towards him slowly, trying to compose what I would say to him in my head but coming up empty handed. Gene didn't acknowledge me as I sat down in the snow, but flinched a little when I edged closer to him and hooked his arm with mine. I didn't say anything for a few moments, just watched the men with him as everyone was fed and eventually drifted off to their foxholes, excluding Joe; he stood nearby with Bill and Bull, glancing my way every few minutes. I looked down at Gene's untouched food. "You gotta eat, Gene," I said gently, but received no response. I sighed in frustration.

_"J'essaie de vous aider, Eugene,_" I said rapidly, and I felt him bristle. "_S'il vous plaît manger. Nous laisserons ici bientôt." _Gene snorted unkindly from where he sat next to me. "And how do you know that?" he spat, snatching his arm away. I looked back at him with confused dismay. "At the rate this is going, we're all gonna be blown to bits before we even get out of this shit-hole." He refused to meet my eyes as he stood up and shoved his mug into my hands. "Things aren't going to magically get better just because you want them to. Grow up." And with that, he stomped away, leaving me fuming and defeated in the snow.

* * *

That night, when I was making the rounds after Gene stubbornly refused to leave his one-man foxhole, I heard the Germans begin to sing from across the clearing. _Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Alles schläft, einsam wacht... _I grimaced to myself. _Of all the goddamn Christmas carols..._

The boys were each having their own little private parties in their foxholes. I smelled cigarette smoke after passing Malarkey, Penk, and Skip, and Hoobler winked at me over his 'lemon-powdered snow cone'. But the smell of fire, so intoxicating after the dismal cold, drifted through the wind, and I followed my nose to a little dip in a clearing where Winters, Harry and Peacock crouched around a little fire.

"...just a couple of minutes, we're in a dell," I heard Harry say morosely as I walked up. "A dell? Like where fairies and gnomes live?" Winters said, and I stifled a snort as I entered their ring of firelight. "Hey, Eloise," he said, and I nodded to all of them. "Y'all doing okay tonight?" I asked, and smiled grimly when they nodded back.

"I swear I could smell a fire," I heard Lew's voice say as he walked up, all bundled and tucked into himself against the wind. "I did smell a fire, are you out of your mind?" He crouched down happily and spread his cracked hands over the heat. "Well, we're in a dell," Winters replied, and I chuckled through my nose. "Huh?" Lew didn't have three seconds to process this when I heard the unmistakable whirl of artillery zeroing in on us, and I threw myself backward as the first shell hit. Winters grabbed me by the scruff of my jacket and helped me scramble towards cover. But as the second shell exploded, I heard a cry of pain, and detached myself from his grip to leap backwards and get to Harry.

Winters followed right after me, helmet slipping off his head as I gripped Harry by the shoulders. "Harry! I got you, it's gonna be okay," I said calmly and firmly, quickly ripping through his clothes and searching for the wound. Next to us, Lew radioed for a jeep and I looked up at Winters. "Hold him as still as you can!" I yelled, looking around for my usual backup. But Gene was nowhere to be found.

I pushed the thought away and Winters helped me rip through Harry's trousers as Peacock stomped the fire out, artillery still landing around us from where the Germans had seen the light. And the bastards were singing Christmas carols only a few minutes before. So much for a silent night.

"Shit, I don't have any morphine!" I called out, getting angrier by the minute. Where the hell was Gene? I used a tourniquet above Harry's wound to stop him from bleeding out, and even though I couldn't see the extent of the damage, I could definitely tell there was shrapnel in the wound. Winters looked over my shoulder and called out 'Roe!' in relief, and Gene came jogging up to us, whipping out his supplies as he slid to a halt next to me. He stood there in wide eyed disbelief as Harry lay shaking on the ground, and Winters called out to him again before he broke his reverie and began to help.

Gene ripped open a sulfa packet as I handed him the tourniquet and moved up to look into Harry's eyes. He twitched underneath us as he mumbled in pain, eyes staring wide into the sky. "He's going into shock," I muttered quietly to Peacock, who stepped back to give me room. "There's morphine in my pocket, give it to him," I heard Gene say, and I gently put a hand under Harry's head. "Hey Harry, you're gonna be okay, alright? Just breathe," I told him gently, and his panicked eyes flickered over to mine. "I don't want to die out here," he said seriously, and I smiled. "Trust me, I'm not fixin' to let you do that on my watch." Gene motioned towards me with sticky red fingers. "Lift his head up," he said, and he drew a messy 'M' on his forehead with his own blood. Lew ran up to us and helped the other men lift Harry up and carry him to the waiting jeep as Gene and I sat in the bloody snow, the little rivulets of blood branching out almost tree-like. I stared at Gene in confusion and concern as he glowered at the ground, and I wondered what exactly had taken him so long to get to us.

Winters walked up to him. "Eugene, get yourself into town and get a hot meal," he mumbled to him, and without looking at me he rose up and stumbled towards the jeep. I watched him go with anxious eyes, and raised my hand to tuck a lock of stray hair behind my ear before I recognized it was still covered in blood. I held back a retch as I registered it had smeared over my cheek, and wiped my hand on my pants angrily. Winters leveled me with a look as I rose up and watched the jeep zoom away. In the distance, I heard the drone of planes and the nearby sounds of explosions rattling the earth. I walked forward a little, the Eastern sky glowing a dull shade of yellow as Winters stood beside me. "That's not the sunrise," I said out loud, and he nodded. "They're bombing Bastogne," he replied, and we stood there in silence for a moment before he walked away with Lew.

I made my way back to the foxhole, and Joe popped his head out like a prairie dog as I approached. "Jesus Christ," he swore, looking me up and down as I trudged wearily towards him. "Why are you always covered in blood?"

"It's not mine," I said, attempting to be reassuring but he just snorted and helped me down into our hole. "Who got hit?" he asked as I ripped my helmet off with a sigh, leaning my head onto his shoulder. "Harry Welsh," I said, completely exhausted. "Gene's losing it. It was a two person job, and he didn't show up until it was almost too late," I said as Joe tried to wipe the blood off my face. "They're on their way to Bastogne, although I'm not too sure what they're gonna find when they get there."

I looked up at him as he stared back down at me wearily. "We're gonna make it out of here," I said firmly, not too sure just whom I was reassuring. "Everyone's gotten too far now to not make it out of here okay, not if I can help it." He wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder and pressed me to his chest, saying nothing, but I understood he felt the same way. I sighed deeply, and closed my eyes as I tried to sleep. But the sounds of the the bombs falling and the flashes from distant artillery made Christmas 1944 a nightmare that I just wanted to forget.

* * *

The next day I was out walking the perimeter with Babe, who had deemed himself my partner in exploring to make up for the misadventure with the German lieutenant, when I noticed a peice of blue cloth wrapped around his hand. "Hey Babe, where'd you get that?" I asked, pointing at his hand as we sidestepped a frozen German soldier. We had all become so desensitized that they didn't frighten me anymore.

He shrugged. "Gene had it when he was patching up my hand on the line," he replied, and I noticed his use of _Gene _instead of 'Doc' or 'Doc Roe'. "He finally called me Babe." He grinned proudly to himself, and I blinked in shock. "He used your nickname?" I asked incredulously, and Babe nodded and smiled. "Yeah, he did, sure took him long enough." We walked on in silence, and I pondered if Gene had actually taken the advice that I had been pressing him with since Toccoa. _Friends are important._

But the blue cloth seemed so familiar as I stared down at it, and suddenly an image of Renee popped into my mind, her hands constantly worrying with the blue handkerchief she worse over her hair. My stomach dropped as I connected the dots. The only way Gene would have her handkerchief is if she was...

So _that's _why he had reached out to someone, that someone being Babe. Irrationally, I felt a bubble of jealousy and anger rise up in my chest. Why hadn't he come to _me?_ Weren't we friends, wasn't I his best friend out of anyone else in the company? I bit my lip as I stared down at the ground as we walked, out footsteps crunching in the snow. But then I felt terrible and hated myself for being so selfish. He obviously didn't come to me because he thought I would scold him on being a loner, on not reaching out, or something like that. It was my own fault if he went to Babe, and who was I to feel jealous about him making friends if that's what I had encouraged him to do all along?

"Babe," I began slowly, and he looked up at me. "Would you do me a favor? Would you just keep an eye out for Gene? I know he's distant but he seems to trust you, and he doesn't listen to me anymore." We stopped as Babe grabbed my arm and looked at me seriously. "I already do," he said, nodding at me, and I smiled in return. "Thank you," I replied. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and patted him on the back as we walked forward. After Julian and Renee, they both needed someone else to connect with, and I wasn't about to stop them.

* * *

**Sorry it was so late, it took a while to get this all organized, but that is the end of Bastogne! I'll be working on the next chapter ASAP. **


	22. Chapter 22

**:(**

* * *

Death stalked us in those woods. It was never anything tangible, just a feeling I would sense when I was up and walking during rounds or simply sitting in my foxhole. I would get a little tingle on the back of my neck, a little _ping!_ of intuition when I knew something was following me. I first I kept tight-lipped about it, becoming more and more weary by the day. Surprisingly, the first man to notice my silent suffering was Gene. Somehow he had been slapped out of his moroseness, my guess the source was his new-found friendship with Babe, and one day came to sit next to me during dinner, peering at me intently every few minutes. Before I had a chance to escape, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to a clearing near the foxholes.

"I can walk on my own, you know," I grumbled as I stumbled over a branch. Gene turned suddenly and looked at me apprehensively as snow began to fall, along with it an unusual silence. "What?"

"Something's following you," he said solemnly, and his words sent goosebumps cascading down my arms. It was one thing to think something crazy like that to yourself, but when someone else said it aloud? It was becoming real. "I know," I whispered, body frozen still in fear. "What do I do?"

He was silent for a moment as his eyes flickered towards the treeline that surrounded us. "I don't know," he admitted, and I balled my hands into fists. "Have you seen anything?" He gestured towards me, and I knew he didn't mean in the literal sense. "No, not since the accident. It's all been very quiet," I said, tapping my head, and he nodded as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Have you..._tried_ to see anything?" he asked gently, and I crinkled my brows at the thought. "Well, no... I don't know if I could, I don't even understand how all of this works." I gestured around randomly, as if I could conjure the answers to all of this psychotic mumbo-jumbo from thin air. "And frankly, I don't even know if I want to understand, or find out what this _thing _is."

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, when suddenly the air around us grew thinner. Silence dropped like a curtain separating us from the men just twenty feet away, and shivers ran down my spine. "Gene..." I whispered, but he shushed me with an extended finger as we widened our eyes and stood still. It felt like someone was walking back and forth behind me, just observing, and I began to breathe rapidly out of fear. I didn't want to know what it was; if I saw it, if I acknowledged its presence, then it meant that it was real.

And just as soon as it had come, it left us and the mood and lighting around us brightened visibly. "Hooooooly shit," he swore in a low tone, walking forward to grab onto my arm as we quickly glanced around. "What in the hell was that?"

"That was it," I mumbled, letting out a shaky breath. "That's what happens to me every time I'm checking on the men or by myself. It scares the hell out of me."

He snorted humorlessly. "I can see why," he said as we tentatively took a few steps forward and then rushed out of the clearing together, walking swiftly back towards the camp. "We need to get out of this goddamn forest. There's a reason everyone feels better when they leave. There's too much death here." He shuddered and shoved his hands in his pockets as we neared the men. "Find me later, we'll discuss it then," he said, his tone switching back to normal as we parted in the middle of the crowd of men. I nodded and swallowed hard, trying to compose myself before I entered back into the company.

But Joe could always see behind my masks. He grabbed on to the sleeve of my jacket and tugged me over to him discreetly. "What's going on? Are you okay?" he muttered, concern shining through his eyes. I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably. "I don't really know," I replied honestly, my voice scratchy. "It's something to do with me, but I'm not sure what is precisely going on yet."

His jaw clenched at this lack of information. Lately it seemed that he had been more protective than usual, sometimes refusing to let me go on rounds alone or stopping me from getting too close to the combat zone. It was frustrating, but I understood. We were both doing everything in our power to make sure the other was as safe as humanly possibly.

"I'll tell you later, I promise." A tingle went through my scalp, and I knew that it was nearby. A quick glance at Gene told me that he had felt it, too; I took in his nervous eyes and stiffened posture. "Look, just do me one favor, okay?" Joe looked down at me with pursed lips. I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Stay out of the woods."

His eyes widened as I leaned backwards, and he instantly clutched the butt of his rifle and looked around nervously. "Why? What the hell is going on out there?" he asked, and I just shook my head sadly. "I don't know, that's what frightens me. Just promise you will, okay? It'll save me from getting even more worry lines," I joked pitifully, raising a hand to my face and smiling sadly.

"Be ready to move out!" Buck's voice rang through the group suddenly, and everyone turned to look in surprise. "Easy's been assigned to clearing out the woods and pushing the Krauts back. Stand ready." He nodded at us with detached eyes as he strode forward, carrying the message to another group of men. The boys looked happy to be going somewhere else, but I stared out into the distance as they hustled to pack up their belongings.

_Clearing out the woods. _That meant entering _its _territory, right into the proverbial heart of darkness. I shivered, and wrapped my coat around me a little bit tighter. _Ready or not..._

* * *

I stood next to Lip and Buck while they consulted a map on the back of Malarkey's unwilling head, shivering my ass off. By my estimates, I had probably lost about ten pounds from shivering alone, weight I couldn't really afford to lose. "Well, we we're here this morning, and then we came this way," Lip said, tracing the delicate lines around Foy with a grubby finger. "Right, so here should be the logging route coming into Foy here, which makes us _right _there," Buck replied triumphant, emphasizing his point with a stab on the map and to Don's scalp. "Hey, take it easy back there!" he whined, and I wheezed a giggle. "Stop crying Malark or I'll nail it to your head," he said, and Bill snorted. "You should, it's made of wood."

"Guarnere, move 'em out, let's go," Buck said as he rose up off the ground, and I extended a hand to help Don up. He gladly grabbed for me, but stared up in surprise as he gripped my wrist firmly. "Jesus Christ, Eloise, you feel like a goddamn skeleton! You stop eating or what?" He peered at me, just now noticing that I had become frail. I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Yes, I eat, okay? I just can't keep any weight on me, that's all," I started to move out with the men, and Don walked by my side.

"Second platoon, let's go!" Bill called out, and I smiled at him as Don and I walked by. Joe caught up with us as everyone else spread out, and Don shot us a knowing look. "So, Lieb, when can we expect a happy announcement?" Joe must have scowled darkly at Don just as I had, and Malarkey laughed as we both huffed to ourselves. "Come on, you guys, we could appreciate a little excitement around here..." Don laughed as he dodged my blow to the head, and held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine! Sheesh, I'll just add that on the list of 'Things Not To Talk About'!"

I avoided Joe's eyes as I walked forward, musing to myself. I had always told myself that I wanted to be with him after the war, but I had never let myself believe that that could be a possibility - there was no telling if we both would make it out unharmed. But then again, he had never brought up the subject with me, or even presumed to ask. A little crack went through my picture-perfect plan, and I frowned.

The woods of the Bois Jacques were quiet as Easy stomped through them carefully, treading lightly on the snow. There was no telling where the Germans might be hiding, as we were both literally crossing each other's territory. We walked on for several minutes, every now and then encountering sporadic machine gun fire from the enemy, no wounds worse than a bandage here and a little sulfa there. I was still on my guard, though, for whatever was lurking in the woods unseen, but felt nothing out of the ordinary during the day.

I had wandered up towards the front of the 'charge' with Lip and Hoobler, catching up on the action and plan in hurried whispers, when the ground vibrated slightly underneath my feet. I slapped a hand out on Lip's chest to stop him, startling him as I went still and wide-eyed. "Hold up!" I whispered, kneeling to the ground along with the men as Lip sank to a knee. "Eloise, what -" he began, but I shushed him as I dropped down onto the snowy ground and placed an ear to the dirt. I spread my hands out wide, soaking up the rhythmic tremors. I popped up as they became stronger. "Horse and rider, coming our way!" I hissed to Lipton as he looked at me incredulously, but I just glanced around for a possible route. "Over there!"

Coming in fast on our right was indeed a horse and rider, a German officer by the look of it, and Lipton motioned to Hoobler. "Hoob, take out that rider!" he whispered, and he scrambled forward with two other men. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Hoob shot the man off of the horse, the poor animal scampering into the woods after his rider fell. Hoob and the other guys checked the man while Lip looked at me in disbelief. "How in the hell did you know that?" he asked.

"That's an old Indian trick right there," Bull said gruffly as he came to stand next to us, gnawing thoughtfully on his cigar stub. "I'm used to the beat of a gallop," I said simply to Lip, peering around him to see where the horse had disappeared. "Do you think the poor horse will be okay?"

"Who cares?" George said flippantly, and I glared. "Oh, right, the horse girl does." Joe laughed behind me but zipped it when I threw a look his way.

A triumphant Hoob let out a whoop and fired a Luger that he had snatched from the dead German in giddy delight. Bill snorted as we watched him trample back to us, gun held high. "Well, at least we won't have to hear about wanting a goddamn Luger anymore," he said grumpily, and I patted him on the shoulder. "Cheer up, boys," I said happily. "Now all we'll hear about is _how_ he got the goddamn Luger!"

We all chuckled as Bill groaned and Hoobler came into sight, his pleased grin stretching from ear to ear.

* * *

He wouldn't stop fiddling with the Luger, and it was making me nervous. I was sitting on the edge of the foxhole where Lip and Shifty were digging in, rendered useless as they had both denied my requests to help, and was listening to Hoob tell the story again. "And down he goes, right out of the saddle, like a sack of potatoes," he said, holding the gun up to the light. "Outstanding accuracy on my part if I do say so myself."

"Which you do," Lip muttered, and I snickered. "Which I do," Hoob reiterated proudly. "Hell, Shifty, I think I could have even given you a run for your money, right?"

"No, no, I'm not a good shot...now Dad, he was an excellent shot, excellent shot I declare. He could shoot the wings off a fly," Shifty said modestly. "That's a bunch of bull," I piped up, nudging him lightly with my foot. "If it weren't for you I'd be dead in the ground." I saw Lip frown at me but I ignored him. "Which reminds me, I still owe you one, and hopefully," I paused as I dug around in my pockets and procured a lighter for Bill, who was standing behind me. "It'll be something really good. But for now, limited means prohibits me."

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he says and sends a shy smile my way. Shifty and I had never been close, but I had always respected him as a fine soldier and a stand-up guy.

"Hey Lip, that German, what'd you think he was doing?" Hoob asked as Lip continued to hurl dirt everywhere with his shovel. "Probably doing a little recon," he wheezed, stabbing his shovel into the frozen dirt. "He must have figured out our main course."

"Maybe he was just tryin' to get the hell out of dodge," Alley offered, and Hoob nodded. "What happened to the horse?" Shifty asked and grimaced unhappily. "I don't know, probably still running," he replied. "Hope it's okay."

Lip paused to catch his breath. "You dug in?" he asked Hoob, clearly winded. "Yeah, yeah...just thought I'd take a walk, shoot the shit," Hoob replied as he raised himself off the ground. "Well, you're a good shot Hoob, just glad you're on our side," Lip smiled as he walked off. "Thanks, Lip!" he called back, and I smiled at his retreating form.

"Hey, Lip? Thanks for the help," Shifty said, and I looked up in surprise. This wasn't even his own foxhole, and he was digging it anyway? The man was truly a saint, and for a moment I felt like a total asshole for not doing something like that to help the men around me.

"Hey Lip, you got a second?" Buck asked as he walked up, and Lip hopped out of the hole. Don jumped down into the foxhole as he handed him his entrenchment tool, and walked off a ways. I strained my ears as I eavesdropped on their conversation.

"Where's Dike?" I heard Buck ask, and I glowered at nothing. "Isn't that the question of the hour," I snorted to myself, and the boys looked up. "Goddamn it, I mean where's Dike? Where the hell is he, where the hell does he ever go?" Buck said. clearly frustrated. "I don't know, but I wish he's stay the hell there. It'd be nice if he took Lieutenant Shames with him too, sir," Don said bitchily, and Lip shot him a look. "Shut up, boys," he said sternly. "Shutting up, sarge!" Don rammed the shovel into a patch of ice.

In the distance, a lone shot rang out and Lip shouted as he dived into the foxhole, dragging me haphazardly down with him. Everyone whipped their rifles off of their shoulders and aimed for the horizon, glancing wildly back and forth. I tried to peek over their helmets but Don shoved me right back down. "Patrol?" he asked. "No, we would've heard," Lip answered, still looking for danger.

"One man, maybe a sniper," Buck added, still as a statue. "That was no rifle," Shifty said, and the other men glanced at him. "Whadd'ya see, Shift?" Lip asked worriedly, and I watched as Shifty's eyes flickered minutely back and forth through the trees. "Nobody out there."

"Are you sure?" Buck asked, and Shifty nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Aw, jeez, it's Hoob! He's shot!" a voice rang out, and before anyone could stop me I scrambled past them and was running towards the sound. "Sniper?" I heard Bull call out from somewhere, and the man shook his head. "Naw, he shot himself!"

I skidded through the snow, landing ungracefully next to Hoob, who was wincing in pain. "Okay, I'm here, what happened?" I called out, not even bothering to look at the men as I started ripping through Hoob's clothes left and right, desperately searching for the source. "Medic!" Frank called for Gene, and Buck and Lip came running. "Lip, hold the gun!" I yelled, trying to find the wound but failing miserably. Behind me, Buck was cursing under his breath frantically. "Where're you hit, Hoob?" I asked, whipping out my switchblade and opening it with a _swish._ "It's in my leg!" he cried out, and as I groped for the wound I struck gold as he cried out. I tried to quickly saw through his trousers, but underneath he also had on a pair of long johns. There was so much blood already saturating through them that I couldn't effectively find the wound. Frustrated, I let out a scream. "GENE!"

Lip and I finally got through his last layer, and the bullet had lodged itself close to one of the main arteries in the leg. I paled and halted for a moment as the little hole spurted blood noisily, Lipton noticing my hesitation and looking to me for directions. "Okay, we need to make a tourniquet for the top of the thigh, does anyone have one, or a scarf even?" I pleaded frantically, while Hoob groaned. "Jesus, it hurts like a son of a bitch!" he moaned.

"DOC!" Lip screamed, and as I glanced over towards Hoob's face, my hands shook. He was becoming deathly pale, and the other men had taken notice. "Warm him up!" Buck cried, and instantly everyone was rubbing his hands and speaking encouragingly to him. I whipped off my scarf as a last resort and wound it tightly on the top of his leg, pressing down on the wound while frantically searching for a bandage in my bag.

Gene suddenly appeared next to me, taking over for Lip as he moved up next to Hoob's head. "How's it look?" he asked me, and I just looked at him sadly before I glanced back down to the wound. "_Je pense que c'est l'artère,_" I said to him quietly, not wanting to upset Hoob any further. Gene looked at me, horrified, and started to dig gently for the bullet in his leg. "Get a bandage ready!" he called to me, and I unwrapped one swiftly.

Buck whipped off his coat and put it over Hoob, who was now panting in short breaths. "Hang in there, Hoob!" Lip said as Gene and I both tried to control the bleeding, which was now beginning to spill over onto the snow. Over the men's soothing mutters, Hoob looked over at Lipton. "Hey Lip, you said I was a great shot, right, Lip?" he asked in a shaky voice, and my breath hitched in my throat. I knew what this was: he was saying goodbye.

Lip looked on the verge of tears as he patted Hoob gently. "You're a great shot, Hoob, a great shot!" he reassured, despair taking over his features. "Man, you jumped out of a plane, you're tough, you're tough, you can do this," Buck muttered and tousled Hoob's cap, and I saw the panic beginning to take over in his eyes. "It's not that bad at all."

"It's not that bad?" Hoob's broken little voice called out, sounding for once like the boy of twenty-two he was. The men watched in disbelief as his pallor overwhelmed his face, all the strength draining from his body. With one glance from Gene, I knew the worst was coming, and I sat back on my heels and brought my hand up to my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut. "I can't see a thing, we got to get back to an aid station!" Gene cried out to Lip, and I shuffled towards the men to take Hoob's hand in mine. "Hoob? I got you, don't be afraid. It's all going to be okay," I said reassuringly, trying to hide the teary tremor in my voice. Hoob's eyelids began to flutter as he looked over towards me, and Buck placed two fingers under his jaw on his pulse point. "Stay there Hoob!" Frank called out, and I felt his grip grow slack in my hand. I held on tighter as his head lolled to the side slightly, and everyone paused. "Hoob?" Frank asked weakly, but Gene still continued trying to dig out the bullet.

"Doc...doc!" Buck said firmly, and Gene and Lip both looked our way in disbelief. Hoobler laid still on the ground, and Lip collapsed backwards as everyone stared numbly at the man who only a few minutes before was regaling us with his triumph of killing the German soldier. I had seen death, but Hoobler's death, so sudden and so unnecessary, rattled me. As I let go of his hand, I felt the universe laughing at me. _You think you're in control? _It seemed to say, smirking evilly. _Think again. _

Everyone sat back in shock, but I stood up, my head spinning. Something inside snapped as the tears began to roll down my face, and I breathed in quickly through my nose, trying not to lose it in front of the men. Frank looked up at me alarmed, but I just stumbled away. I heard the crunch of footsteps behind me, and in a moment Lip was beside me, a comforting arm encircling my shoulders. "Hey, let's go see Winters and Nixon about this, okay? Come on, just walk with me," he said soothingly, and I nodded my head silently, feeling like a little girl for the first time in two years.

* * *

"He was wearing so many clothes we couldn't tell how bad he was bleeding," Lip said with a sigh as we stood in front of a seated Winters and Nix, who were listening with solemn expressions on their faces. I stood silently, completely numb as I stared at the ground without really seeing anything at all. "And by the time we got him to the aid station he was already dead." Lip looked over at me, but I remained frozen. "Yeah, a bullet cut the main artery in his leg, sir."

"Aw, Lip," Lew mumbled after a beat of silence. "Wouldn't made a difference if you had known. You cut that main artery in the leg, that's...that's it." I felt his gaze on me as I grimaced at the ground, closing my eyes for a moment as I tried to erase the memory of once again being worthless when it came to my job.

"Yes sir," Lip muttered, shivering. "Well, uh, I'm going to go back and make sure the boys are all dug in, sir." He turned to go, but Winters called him back. "Lip? Where's Dike?"

"You want to see him, sir?" Lip asked as Winters shivered. "No, I just would have expected to get this kind of news from him." I raised my head slowly to look at Lip as he hesitated in his answer. "Well, uh, I was there, sir. I figured it might as well be me and Eloise." Winters grunted as Lip looked at him with his sad eyes. He ducked out from under the makeshift cover, and I turned to follow him, but before I could go anywhere a hand grabbed my wrist. "Not so fast," Lew's voice chided as I turned around to face him and Winters. They both were scrutinizing me carefully, and I knew what they were seeing: emotionally detached zombie girl who looked like the walking dead.

"What in the name of God happened to you?" Lew asked not unkindly, cradling my face and tilting my head back to check me out. "Lew..." Winters scolded, but I just stepped back and looked at him sadly. "I don't feel well, but then again, no one feels good right now," I said flatly, shrugging my shoulders. "And trust me, I'm eating, but I still look like this." I motioned to how my clothes hung loosely on my frame.

"You're not shivering," Winters commented, teeth chattering, and Lew rushed forward to feel my forehead. "Dick, she's cold as an icicle," he commented, and it suddenly dawned on me. "Oh God," I said, eyes widening as Lew rushed me to sit down on the stump he had previously occupied. "Hypothermia?"

"You're the nurse!" Lew shouted frantically as he wrapped me in a blanket, and then dashed out the door. "Dick, make her some coffee!" Winters got up to comply but I rose up and tried to untangle myself from the blanket before I stumbled suddenly, loosing my balance completely. He caught me before I could crash to the ground. "No, you're staying right there, Sergeant. That's a direct order." I hung my head as he heated up the field stove. "I'm such a shitty nurse, sir. I've said it before, I'll say it again." I scoffed at my uselessness as he shoved his mug onto the burner. "You would think I'd be able to stay well. I guess the universe has other plans."

"Hang tough, Saylor. You're a valuable member of this company, and don't you ever forget that." He placed the hot cup of coffee in my hands. "Now sip on that while I go to Battalion and inform them of our casualties." He exited the compound quickly, and I rested my face over the glorious steam as I let a few more tears trickle out from the events of the day.

* * *

I sat with Bill and the boys on top of their foxhole, trying and failing to ignore the cold.

"I'm telling ya boys, we're screwed," Bill spat through his chattering teeth to all of us. "If you ask me I'm glad Lieutenant Dike's never around," Tab added, looking at his feet.

"Hey, you know what? We're doing alright, even with...Foxhole Norman," Malarkey said dejectedly, and Bill snorted. "Yeah Don, we're doing alright, we're doing alright _now,_" he emphasized. "'Case you haven't noticed there's a little town down that way, right? And in this town are these guys, and these guys are called _Germans_, and these Germans gots tanks -"

"I know, I know," Malark interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, and our side's gonna want to go into that town, and I'll give ya one guess on who they want to go knockin' on the goddamn door!"

"I know, Bill, alright? It's me you're talking to here," Don looked at him, completely annoyed, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Jesus Christ," Bill drawled, looking out over the wasteland. "After all this, we got a CO who's got his own head so far up his own fuckin' ass that the lump in his throat is his goddamn nose."

I chuckled at that, and Muck looked up. "Hey, First Sergeant!" he called out as Lip came wandering in. "Hey boys," he answered us. "Hey Muck, what's the word?"

"Eh, you know," he said, drawling off. "Sitting around freezing our asses off, singing Dike's praises."

"Ah, Lieutenant Dike. Well, I'll tell ya," he said as he sat down, placing his rifle over his knees. "I wouldn't want to be a replacement lieutenant coming in here, to get thrown in with a group of guys who've known each other for, what, two years? Who've been in combat together since Normandy, he's s'posed to just show up and lead them? How's a guy do that? How would anyone really hope to gain the respect of the toughest, most professional, most ddedicated sons of bitches in the entire ETO?"

"See if you ask me, a guy'd have to march off to Berlin and come back with Hitler's mustache or something," Lip finished, and Bill let out a cackle that soon had everyone grinning. "Anyway, listen, you guys don't worry about Dike. Alright? We all do our jobs, and everything will be fine." He patted Bill's knee, and then rose up groaning. "Oh, and Joe?" I looked up as he addressed me. "Eloise's got hypothermia, she's resting back there with Winters and Nixon, just to let you know." My jaw went slack in disbelief as the other boys chuckled. "See ya, sarge!" Muck called out, and Lip waved back at us. "Yeah, boy!"

"I swear to God," I huffed as I got up. "There's never a fucking dull moment, is there?" Bill shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Joe. I mean, you chose her!" The boys laughed as I got my gear together. "Remember when he broke his ankle or whatever 'cause he was too busy checking her out while running down Currahee?" Skip said, and I gritted my teeth. "Or the time when...?"

I stomped away towards the officers before I could hear any more, and their laughter reverberated through the trees.

* * *

I felt like a hot dog. Nix had bundled me in at least two more blankets - at this point, I was truly loosing count - and had fed me three more cups of coffee. Both he and Winters had long gone back and forth to Battalion and to the line, but I was under strict orders to stay where I was until the chills had gone. And despite the fact that I felt like a lump on a log, I was sweating for the first time in two months, and it felt great.

Suddenly the stomping of boots on the snow came crunching towards me, and a tall, dark shadow ducked under the cover of the roof. To my intense dismay, Ronald Speirs emerged from the shadows.

I looked at him bleakly, too sweaty to care. "If you're looking for Dike, Winters, or Nixon, I can't help you, sir."

He did not reply, and just stood there for a moment, taking me in. "What's wrong with you now?" he asked, voice guarded. "They tell me it is hypothermia," I shrugged, averting my gaze out into the snow. "But frankly, I could care less. I'm tired of being an invalid."

He smirked slightly but then let it drop. He made me uncomfortable. What was I supposed to say to this man? All he had accomplished so far was confusing me beyond any point of comprehension. So instead, I just stared at him, and he stared back. "So..." I drawled, letting my blankets fall from my head so I could get some air. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

He did not take the subtle hint to leave. "Not really," he uttered in a monotone voice, looking extremely uncomfortable. I narrowed my eyes. From my previous experience, when Speirs broke his Ice Man exterior, he was about to do something rash. "I just wanted to -"

"You have a wife, a _wife_, in Aldbourne," I said poisonously, picking at my nails and ignoring him. "Hilarious how that didn't come up once. Not when you were trying to be my 'friend' in France, not when you were yelling at me in the hedgerow after D-Day, not even when you were toying with my emotions in Holland." He had gone silent again, watching me carefully. "And yet, you wanted me to desert everything I had..._no_," I paused as I held up my hand, noticing he had opened his mouth to defend himself. "I'm aware you never said that, but we both know it was true." I turned the full heat of my glare upon him. "So here I sit, wondering why you are still trying. Why you tried to sneak in and see me when I was comatose. Why you helped me in Colonel Sink's office. Why you're here _now _when I know for a fact that your company is supposed to be on the opposite side of the Ardennes."

Silence rang after I had finished my speech. I realized that I was not afraid of this man, I never would be, and huffed a bit of laughter to myself. He did not look amused, but I didn't care. "I was going to apologize," he said frostily. I shrugged. "And then what? I would have forgiven you, we would try again to become 'friends', and the same thing would end up happening? No, I don't want your apologies. I should be apologizing to you." He frowned at me after that, but I continued anyway. "I should have never entertained the idea of anything happening between us anyway, not when I was in no position to do so. Especially since my heart belonged to someone else."

And like clockwork, Joe walked into the scene, on stage right. His angry eyes flickered between me and Speirs. "Is everything alright?" he asked me in a tight voice, and I smiled. "Everything is wonderful," I replied, and without any premise of a goodbye Ron turned on his heel and stomped off into the darkness. Joe and I stared at the space he vacated for a moment before I heard him sigh. I turned to find him pressing a hand to his weary face.

"I'm not going to yell at you because you're sick," he began in a gravelly voice. "But I really, really want to." He slid the hand down his face and glared at me. "What the hell did you mean 'entertaining the idea' of getting with him? When!?"

"When you and I were fighting in Holland, he was kind to me," I remarked plainly. "And clearly nothing happened, because I told him to 'fuck off', remember?" Joe stood there, balling his hands into fists. "Because, as this whole damn Company knows, I'm grossly in love with you." I leaned back against the post and sighed. "Please don't yell at me. I don't think I could take it after this day."

He kneeled down beside me, still visibly angry, but gripped my hand in his gently. "I heard about Hoobler," he said in a low voice, and I shut my eyes. "I'm so sorry, I knew you like him." He paused, clearly uncomfortable, but I peeked open an eye at him and he winced. "And Buck was talking about how you walked off crying. Apparently that was the most shocking moment of the day." I cracked a smile at that one. Bill and Joe were the only men in the company so far who had been privileged enough to see me break down, and I bet the other boys had no idea what to do or think when their hardened nurse boohooed.

I sighed and rose up from my stump, gathering the blankets around me. "Come on, let's blow this joint," I motioned with a nod of my head to the snowy woods. "I wanna give these blankets to someone who needs them." Joe rolled his eyes but complied, grabbing my arm gently to help guide me out. "You can't be stopped, can you?" he muttered, and I nudged him. "You haven't figured that out already?" He smiled and my mood lifted instantly. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was around, I kissed him swiftly. "Let's get back to our boys."

* * *

"Who needs blankets?" I said in a singsong tone as I walked up to my boys. George and Frank instantly put their hands in the air. "Oh wait, not if you infected them with your plague," George scowled as he lowered his hands, and I rolled my eyes.

"You know, that's what the settlers on the Mayflower did to the Indians," Alex piped up as he stirred his cup on his burner thoughtfully. "They thought they were giving the Indians this fantastic gift, but they were carrying smallpox with them, and they ended up wiping out almost all of the Indians." He paused and took a sip. "So I'm going to say no as well."

"Aw, shit, I don't give a damn, I'm cold," Bull grumbled and took one from my hands. "Hypothermia ain't no virus anyway."

"See? Bull knows his shit!" I exclaimed and slid down to where they were gathered around the foxhole. "This is almost like a bunker." I examined the deep sides and kicked it with my foot appreciatively. "It's nice."

"Feel free to come snuggle," Don said with a wink, and I laughed at Joe's expression. "Wish I could, but I think I'm otherwise engaged." Frank raised a knowing eyebrow at Skip, and they stifled giggles.

"...had a goddamn Luger in his pants," I heard Buck's voice drift on the wind from the next foxhole over. I bit my lip and looked away at the ground as every man's eyes flickered over to me. "Dear God...and don't you two do something stupid like that, alright?"

"Try not to, Buck," Babe replied, but Buck wasn't satisfied. "I mean it. And you -" he thwacked Bill with a stick. "Wild Bill, I've invested too much goddamn time shaping you into something useful!" Bill chuckled gently, his heart not really in it. "You'd do something crazy, get yourself knocked out of this thing."

"Ah, yeah, yeah, I know, you'll kill me," he waved at Buck with an eye roll. "Even if you're dead, I'll still kill ya!" He hit Bill's helmet with the stick and climbed out of the foxhole. "I'll see you guys later, alright? I'm gonna go check on the other guys." I watched warily as he stumbled up and looked around, letting the true panic he felt shine through his eyes for once. I furrowed my brow as he walked off. "Hey, Buck!" I called out, and he turned. "Let me walk with ya!" Heaping the blankets onto an unprepared Joe, who grunted in surprise, I scrambled out and jogged over to my friend. "I gotta make my rounds anyway, might as well do them with the handsomest guy around." I threw a wink back over my shoulder at Joe, who just smirked. He knew what I was up to.

"I don't know if I would say that," he mumbled, but chuckled anyway, visibly relaxing. "But alright, come on." We skedaddled about for a bit, and I checked on the men and changed bandages and inspected feet while he repeated his 'Don't Do Anything Stupid' speech at each foxhole. When we were finally done and he returned to his empty one, I sat down at the edge. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your crew?" he asked, well aware that I was loitering. "They don't mind if I stay over here for a while, do you?" I asked, and he shook his head as he kept digging deeper. A couple of seconds of avoiding each other's eyes occurred before I finally manned up and spoke.

"Today was not a good day, was it?" I mused, and he grunted in response. "Personally, I haven't seen a good day out here once," he replied, still digging.

"I know how you feel," I sighed and jumped in, pulling my own entrenchment tool from my pack. Buck tried to stop me but I just scooted out of his reach and continued my work. "All this shit's gotten to me pretty badly. But talking to someone helps." I shoveled out dirt as he clenched his jaw and stared down at the ground. "You can always talk to me, you know. Mum's the word."

"Thanks, I'll...I'll keep that in mind," he said slowly, and I smiled at him before patting him on the back. "You know where to find me." I climbed out of his foxhole and dusted off my trousers. "And Buck? I won't do anything stupid either."

He looked at me with exhausted eyes. "You'd better not," he warned, leaning against his shovel. "Believe me when I say this: we can't afford to lose you now. It would kill these men." I bit my lip as I replaced my face with Hoobler's, images of me bleeding out on the cold ground flickering through my head. "I promise," I nodded to him, and with a salute I turned and wandered back towards Joe.

I thought long and hard about the risks of being out here, of being together when the possibility of one of us getting killed outweighed the chances of both of us escaping here unscathed. _But you knew this before you jumped out of the plane_, I thought to myself and scowled. _You accepted this fate when you kissed him on the ship. _I groaned to myself and hung my head low as I trudged forward. I simply would not allow myself to think of a world without him. It would rip my soul in two.

Suddenly, I realized that the sound of my footsteps in the snow had been joined by another pair of feet. I stopped where I stood and whipped my head around, looking right and left in the dark forest, but saw no one. "Hello?" I called out, and only the whispering wind called back to me. What was it that Gene had said... _are you trying to see something?_ I was horrified at what I would possibly see if I did try, and I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. The menacing shiver raced up my spine once again, and I knew I wasn't alone.

I squeezed my eyes together hard, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Counting down to five, I slowly opened my eyes. Nothing looked different, and I stood there for a moment, feeling like an utter maniac before I turned around. I immediately jumped out of my skin and stifled a scream. _  
_

Standing ten feet behind me was a shadow, ragged along the edges, too tall to be human. It had long arms and legs, and it stood still as I gasped in fear. Slowly, two pinpricks of yellow light radiated from where its eyes should have been, and they glowed at me dully. I stared back at this thing with my mouth open wide, its nightmarish head cocking to the side as it studied me carefully. The screech of metal grinding against metal filled my head, and I clutched it in pain as a whispering filtered through the noise. _Eloise, _the thing was saying to me, and I listened. _Eloise, eloise eloise eloiseeloiseeloise - _

And it was gone. It flickered away faster than light, and silence hit me like a wall. The shakes took me from head to toe, and I clutched myself as I ran at full tilt towards my foxhole. I heard many men shout in surprise as I dashed by them, but I had no time to apologize. The thing had _known _me, it knew my name, it was inside my head; and that meant that if it wanted to hurt me, it knew who to get first...

I skid down into our foxhole, startling Joe awake. "What in the hell!?" he started, but then dropped the annoyance when he saw my face. "Holy shit...baby, what happened?" he said roughly, grabbing me by the shoulders and sitting me down. iwas shaking uncontrollably, trying to speak but the words just wouldn't come out. Tears took their place instead. "Joe, I..." I tried to start, but it evolved into panicked sobs. He held me gently as I tucked my face into the crook of his shoulder annd breathed deeply, trying to calm myself down. "Who did this to you?" he growled dangerously, and I shook my head.

"No, no one...I did, I..." I couldn't tell him what I had seen. I just couldn't do that to him, not now. "Remember when I told you not to go into the woods alone?" I whispered, my terror freezing me into stillness as the shock sank in. He nodded carefully. "I saw it," I stuttered, gripping the lapels of his jacket in my shaking hands. "Joe, please, just promise me you won't go out there alone. It only happens when you're alone."

Joe looked truly frightened, and I despaired. "Okay," he whispered finally, after taking a few breaths. "I won't." We huddled down as deep into the foxhole as we could go, both of us laying awake for a while until I stopped shaking. I felt his breathing even out, but I couldn't even think of sleeping. I was too afraid of what might happen in my dreams.

I didn't fall asleep until dawn.

* * *

**:(((((**

**Shit, I kind of just scared myself. **


	23. Chapter 23

**As always, thanks for the reviews and the love. I like MaKiNg NeW fRiEnDs! $#^ (No but really, it's great having a league of fellow fanatics and y'all are seriously some badass bitches.)**

**It's harder for me to crank out these few chapters because the feelings I get when I write these events make me really sad, especially on a personal level with my characters because...well...you'll see.**

* * *

"How tall?" Gene asked, shaking the snow from his jacket as we crouched under a fallen branch. We had squirreled ourselves away from the rest of the company, because there was no better way to get ourselves a one-way ticket to the local loony bin than to be overheard talking about giant shadow demons that prowled the woods at night.

"Fucking tall, Gene. Taller than a human could ever be," I replied, scraping at the blood that had crusted on the sides of my fingernails. "It knew my name, too. It was in my head."

He sighed, shaking his head. "With all the shit happening out here, I'm not surprised it's around. Those things are attracted to human misery."

"'Those things'?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. Gene just stared at the ground. "If you acknowledge its presence, you give it power," he said slowly, and glanced up at me. "But it sounds as if it already has power."

I dug the toe of my boot. "We're both Catholic, we know what we have to do," I muttered, chills inching up my arms.

"Nuh-uh, that's not my job," Gene said, rocking back on his heels. "We gotta tell the Father."

I think of our company priest, who comes around in the jeep once a week to give a sermon and communion, blessing the boys who want to die in a state of grace and trying to reconcile with the men who don't. A happy man who was at utter peace with himself in the midst of a war. I couldn't imagine him taking on something like this.

"No, I'll figure something out," I said, not really believing myself. Gene looked at me as if I had gone mad. "Are you serious?" I shrugged. What else was I going to do?

"Do you think anyone else can feel it like we do?" I asked in a whisper. He shook his head. "Probably not, and if they did, I doubt they would say anything about it," he said, and sighed again. "What are you going to do?"

"Be brave," I retorted with a firm look, and he just nodded to himself. We crawled out from under the branch, and I gave him a hand as he raised himself up. "Well, let me know how that goes for you," he said dryly, patting my arm. "And please do not get possessed by a demon. This is not the time nor the place for an emergency slapdash exorcism." I punched him in the arm lightly and rolled my arms as he tried to kill the smirk that was threatening to take over his face. "Screw you, that's not funny," I retorted, but as I looked at him I started to giggle, and pretty soon we were both cackling. The tension melted slightly as we caught our breath, but I sobered up pretty quickly when I reached into my pocket to check if my rosary was still there.

We were screwed.

* * *

"What's going on?" I asked George as Gene and I walked back into camp and saw the men in higher spirits than they had been, each one grinning at each other like they'd been let in on an embarrassing secret.

"Peacock's being sent back to the States for some war bond rally, I don't know - that's not important," Don spoke up, walking towards an area where the men were congregated around the said lieutenant. "The important part is that he's going to be _gone_." Malark shot a cheeky wink at me and I snorted.

"Congratulations, lieutenant," I heard Bull's baritone voice ring out. "I can't think of anybody who deserves this more." The men around him chuckled as Peacock smiled, oblivious to his derisive undertone. "Thanks," he said, laughing in relief. "Really glad that you're going home," George said, somehow keeping his smile under wraps. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I felt a wave of embarrassment wash through me as I watched the cringe-worthy interactions. Peacock was the most oblivious person I had met through the war, and though I didn't dislike the guy, I felt that he only got in the way when things got rough. He needed to go.

"Thanks guys, I mean, it really means a lot, you know?" I heard him say, and I bit down on my lip as I walked forward to join the crowd. The men closed in on him as someone said, "Three cheers for Lieutenant Peacock!" And sure enough, three quiet 'Hip, Hip, Hoorays!' were called out, and I clutched onto Gene's arm as we both chuckled. As the men parted and Peacock disappeared into the woods to go find the other brass, I walked up to the group.

"Y'all all are terrible people, and you should be very ashamed of yourselves," I tried to lecture without laughing, but failed miserably. "Sorry, Ma!" Bill called out, and soon enough we were all indulging in giggle fits, everyone cracking a smile. Who would have thought that Peacock would be the one to make us laugh in the end.

Joe ambled up to me where I stood with Skip and George, swinging an arm around my shoulder when he arrived. Very aware to the looks I was getting from the other men, I shoved him off good-naturedly, but he just came back undaunted. "Ow!" he faked, then poked me under the ribs. I shot three feet in the air and squealed, glaring at him while he laughed and made to punch him in the chest before Bill cut in. "Now children, children," he said imperiously, separating us at arms length. "Play nice."

"Get your hands off me," Joe said mildly as he skirted around Bill and knocked me on the helmet. "_Tut mir leid._" I pursed my lips for a moment as I thought before the light bulb went off in my head. "Oh! _Ich verzeihe dir_...right?" I guessed, and he shot me a smirk. "_Oui, c'est exact,_" he replied in French, and I grinned. We had been passing the time in our foxholes by teaching each other phrases in German and French, since I was determined to be a little multilingual by the end of the war. We'd been making pretty good progress when we weren't disrupted by the bombs and, well, you know..._other_ activities.

Bill groaned. "I cannot fucking stand you two when you get like this, makes me wanna hurl," he grumbled as he walked away, and I laughed merrily. "Sorry we're more cultured than you!" Joe called out and received a middle finger in response. George smirked at both of us before raising an eyebrow at Skip. "If this is what they're like now, can you imagine how the children will turn out?" Skip asked in a mocking tone, and I glared at him.

"Excuse me," I said frostily. "But my children will be beautiful _and_ complete geniuses." I tossed my braid back and stomped away in a huff as the other men laughed. "And they'll probably be kickin' your kid's ass, Muck," I heard Joe toss out behind me, and I turned around as I laughed. "Oh fuck you!" Skip cried out good-naturedly, and Joe dodged a fist aimed his way as he jogged after me. We walked onward for a moment before catching sight of some stranger walking around with a camera, filming some of the men as they waved and smiled. I made a quick turn to the left to walk out of the view of the film crew, pulling a bemused Joe with me. "Like hell I'm going to let the nation see me like _this_," I scoffed, motioning to my grimy form. I hadn't seen my face in a mirror since Mourmelon, and I had no desire to find out exactly what I looked like through the eyes of a million Americans in movie theaters.

"Why do they film us for 'morale back home'?" Joe pondered out loud as we walked. "If anything, the people back home should be sending _us_ films of them smiling and waving to boost our morale."

"What do they have to be sad about anyway?" I added, linking my arm with his as the men disappeared behind us. "They're not getting blown up every single day by the Germans."

"Exactly," he agreed, squeezing my arm. "See, this is why I love you, you're almost as smart as me." I kicked him from behind while he laughed, and with an eye roll I nestled into the warmth of our connected arms as we strolled along.

"Listen," he said suddenly, stopping us in the middle of the woods. "How do you feel about New York?"

I crinkled my forehead in confusion. "New York? As in, the city?" He nodded silently as I looked at him. "I don't know, I like it alright, I've been a couple of times - great shopping." I smiled as he snorted and rolled his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know, I was just thinking about New York," he said, turning away from me and staring off into the forest. "Seems like a good place to live. You know, after the war..." He drawled off as he ducked his head, glancing up at me. "Together."

I was silent for a moment as this information sank in. _New York. After the war. Together. _I smiled shyly up at him. "I think it would be a good place to live, too," I said slowly, feeling myself begin to flush like a schoolgirl. He smiled a real smile back at me, the kind of Joe Liebgott smile that I stayed alive for. He gently cupped my cheek and ran a rough thumb over the curve of my smile. "Good," he said proudly. "I'm glad you think so." I giggled to myself as he put my hand in the crook of his arm as we walked back towards the men. A part of me knew this was so dangerous, letting ourselves plan ahead, looking towards a future that might be blasted out of our reach, but I didn't care. I was riding my high as we eventually separated as we grew nearer to the foxholes, envisioning a brownstone with window boxes full of flowers, the laughter of children bouncing off the walls of my imagination.

I saw Winters before I saw Joe Toye, but I was striding towards them nonetheless as my fantasy evaporated in my head. "What in the world do you think you're doing here!?" I called out, completely bewildered as Winters shot Toye a look that said '_I told you so'_. "You were only at the aid station for _three days_, that is not long enough!"

"Good to see you too, sweetheart," he said sarcastically as I tried to check his arm out. I followed him as he walked towards the men. "I'm not going back to the aid station, fuck that place - it's miserable as hell." He nodded towards my Joe. "How you doing, Liebgott? What's been happening?"

"Ah, you know," Joe said as his soldier veneer overtook the innocent smile I had witnessed earlier. "Just getting our asses blown up from underneath us, followed by more snow." Toye snorted as we followed him. "Same old, same old then."

Everyone was lined up for food by the time we reached them. I was still fretting over Toye, but Bill's smile when he saw his old friend made some of my frown lines dissipate temporarily. "Hey, Joe," he said, capturing Toye's good arm in a firm handshake. "Good to see you, pal. The hell you doing back here?"

"Had to make sure you were on top of things," he rasped out, and I smiled as the two buddies huddled together. Joe glanced down at me and rolled his eyes. "I'm on top of things!" Bill said sarcastically. "Tied my own boots last week - and all by meself!" Joe rasped out a cackle as Bill slapped him on the back, leading him up in the line. "Hey fellas, look who I found!"

"Hey, Joe Toye!" Skip cried out, and soon all the old Toccoa men were surrounding their friend. I was feeling a little weepy, but Joe nudged me in the side. "Try to control your emotions, woman, Jesus!" he griped, and I glowered at him. "Excuse me, but you just can't dump all this, this -" I motioned at the scene in front of me, looking for the word. "_Joyfulness, _on me all at once and expect nothing!" I shot him a pointed look, and raised his eyebrows. "Fine, point taken, let's eat," he grumbled, and I laughed as I followed him.

"I escaped from the aid station," Toye was explaining as I took a seat and Joe brought us food. "Where'd you get hit?" a little voice piped up, and Toye looked at the new man blandly. "Who's this?" he asked Skip, and Muck tossed his hand over his shoulder. "He's a replacement." Toye rolled his eyes. "Really? Thought it was some guy I'd known for two years and forgot his face," he replied sarcastically, and Joe chuckled next to me.

"Joe got hit in the arm," Alex said helpfully up the line. "New Year's Eve gift from the Luftwaffen." The replacement looked around with wide eyes. "Lot of you guys been injured?"

"It's called 'wounded', peanut," Johnny Martin said scathingly from behind him as I giggled. "Injured's when you fall out of a tree or something."

"Don't worry," Skip said, walking over towards where we all sat. "There's enough crap lying around here, you're bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every single one of these guys have been hit at least once...except Raleigh, he's a two-timer!" The man in question dipped some of his bread in Skip's food. "He landed on broken glass in Normandy and got peppered by a potato-masher in Holland." Skip ambled toward us and I rolled my eyes. "Here comes Show-And-Tell," Joe muttered in my ear, and I laughed to myself.

"Now Bull, he got a piece of exploding tank in Holland. And George Luz here has never been hit," Skip poked George in the jacket. "You're one lucky bastard!"

"Takes one to know one, Skip," George muttered through his mouth full of food. "Eh, consider us blessed. Now Liebgott," Skip said, pointing at Joe. "Skinny little guy? He got pinked in the neck in Holland, and next to him, that beloved vision of beauty, has been hit... Jesus, Eloise, how many times have you been hit?"

I smiled at the replacement. "Well, there were the two Germans on D-Day, that one was in the neck," I said, rubbing the scar. "Then there was the bazooka in Carentan, and I got a stab wound here, glass in my arm and a nice slice across the forehead. And then I got hit in the arm in Holland, at Nuenen. And _then _I was kidnapped and whacked in the back of the head by a rogue German officer, which sent me into a mild coma," I paused, looking up at the replacement's shocked eyes. "But I don't really count that one, so, yeah, about three or so."

"_Yeah, about three or so_," Skip mocked me, and I shot him a look. "She's basically immortal, knock on wood." I complied and banged my fist on the log beneath me, and Joe smiled. "Speaking of these two, don't hang around them, they're psychopaths, and they'll probably procreate more psychos when they get back to the States." I glowered at Skip as Joe flipped him the bird, but he just giggled and moved down the line. "And right next to her, that other skinny little guy, that's Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy."

"And uh, Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland," Skip called out as Buck pointed at his rear end...pointedly. I snorted and he winked at me from across the clearing. "It's kind of an Easy Company tradition, getting shot in the ass," Alex motioned with his spoon. "Hey, even First Sergeant Lipton over there, he got a couple pieces of tank shell burst in Carentan, one chunk in the face, the other chunk almost took out his nuts."

"How are those nuts, sergeant?" Bill asked thoughtfully. "Doing fine, Bill. Nice of you to ask," Lipton replied dutifully, clearly humoring us. _Boys_, I thought with an eye roll.

Next to me, Popeye nudged my arm. "Hey, when y'all get around to procreatin' one of those psychos, will you name one of them after me?" I scoffed at him while Joe rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, Popeye," he replied so only the two of us could hear, and I groaned as Popeye cracked up.

* * *

We soon headed back to our old positions on the line, and Gene and I caught up with the men back in the woods after we stopped in Bastogne for more supplies. We joined the line of marching men in the outskirts of the forest and huddled together. We passed Christensen, Frank, and the replacement as they were doomed to watch the line under Speirs. I winked at them as we passed, and Frank groaned. "At least let us have Eloise, he actually _likes _her!" he called out, and I scowled as the men laughed.

"He doesn't like me anymore," I muttered under my breath, and Johnny Martin turned around to glance at me. "And why's that? Last time I saw, you two were pretty good friends."

"He is _not _my friend," I said heatedly. "We had differences in opinions."

"Good," said Alex, who patted me on the shoulder. "We don't need any more crazies associated with Easy Company than we already have. You included." The men chuckled around me as I sighed heavily.

We made it back to our old foxholes overlooking Foy, only to discover a not-so-sweet surprise left for us by First Battalion. "Someone's going to die, someone's going to fucking die!" I heard Toye scream from his foxhole. "Those bastards took a dump in my foxhole!"

"They shit in everyone's foxhole, Joe," Bill said, looking up. "I don't think they wanted to spend much time above-ground." The trees around us had been splintered to nothingness. Fallen limbs littered the ground every few feet, and I understood First's trepidation. Because all in all, you had to be pretty desperate to shit in your own foxhole. The Germans had completely bombarded the area since we'd been gone, and more light streamed in than before from the decimated tree canopy. "Light and noise discipline, we're getting close!" someone called out, and I slowed down to walk in-step with Gene. "Look," I whispered, pointing ahead as Foy came into view. Below us, a few Germans ran around, moving boxes from one building to the next in their white winter uniforms.

"I see," he said patronizingly, and I hit him lightly. After living under a tarp for the last couple of months, anything that resembled an inhabitable building excited me.

As we settled down to strengthening our cover, Gene came to find me in my old foxhole while Joe was out talking to the men. "So, have you given any thought to what we talked about before?" Gene asked, and I nodded.

"Do you think...confronting it, maybe, would be helpful?" I asked, and Gene frowned. "Maybe it's just trying to tell me something."

"I highly doubt that," he retorted. "From your description, it sounds like it wants nothing other than to terrorize us." I squeezed the St. Christopher medal that hung around my neck tightly between my fingers. "There's only one way to find out," I said, chilled to the bone but determined to get whatever confrontation was coming over with. "Besides, this could be the thing that's been warning me in my head since North Carolina!" Gene clenched his jaw and looked away, but I knew he agreed with me.

Suddenly, we heard the whine of artillery. "Oh, goddamn it!" Gene shouted as we ducked down into the ground. "Incoming!" I heard Lip's voice yell out, and I cursed as the first shells began to hit. The fucking Germans had been waiting for us to reoccupy the position, and I felt as if they were somehow targeting me and the men that I loved personally.

The shelling picked up in tempo, to a pace I never even knew was possible, and Gene clutched me tighter. I flinched at every explosion, gritting my teeth together and praying that we wouldn't be hit where we lay. Dirt sprayed up in waves like water hitting the breakers out in Mobile Bay, showering us in layers of silt. All through the bombardment, my mind raced and fretted over Joe. It was the first time we weren't together during an attack, and my hands groped uselessly for a body that wasn't there. _Where the fuck are you, Joe? _I thought to myself over and over through the screams of the men and the yellow flames of the exploding trees. _Where in the hell are you?_

Everything went quiet for a moment, and Gene and I slowly poked our heads up over the fallen branches that had tumbled over us during the shelling. I could see the heads of all the other men around us poking up as well, and I was hit with the imagery of turtles in a swamp, scanning the water's surface for danger. Nearby, Don and Bill rose halfway up in their foxhole, followed by a disheveled looking Joe, and I let out a breath of relief. I saw some worry melt from his expression when we locked eyes, and he nodded at me solemnly. "Stay in your foxholes!" Lip's voice rang out in the distance.

Gene and I breathed heavily, but I knew that this was far from over. They were waiting for us to gain a false sense of security, come creeping out of our foxholes, and then blast us to the moon and back a second time. I hated them for being so damn clever, so like us that it was uncanny - if we were in their position, we'd be doing the same exact thing.

Through the wisps of silence and Lipton's yells, over the crashing of tree limbs falling down from their perches high above, there was a whimper. The five of us all heard it, each one whipping our heads off to the right where the sound had shot through the chaos.

"You hear that?" Don said, looking past Bill's helmet. "Is that Joe?" Bill replied, and I already knew what he was going to do, even before Malarkey confirmed his suspicions. "Yeah, I think that's Joe," he said worriedly, and I was already halfway out of the foxhole before Gene had caught my leg.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gene called out as he drug me back down. I glared back at him, sick of everyone treating me like a porcelain doll. "I'm going to go get him," I said, but Gene cut me off. "Like hell you are! I bet you that the next round is gonna start in two minutes, and there's no way you can make it there and back. Spina's foxhole is that way, he'll take care of Toye." His logic made sense to me but I didn't like it.

"Stay!" I heard Bill shout out to Don and Joe, and he leapt out of his foxhole in one bound. "Wait, I'll come with you," Joe said, and my mouth dropped open as he followed Bill out into the open. "Fuck this, if he's going I am to!" I told Gene, but Joe turned around and pointed a finger at me, his face drained of color.

"You're not coming! Doc, hold her back," he said, his tone deadly serious. I leaned down into the ground, a little taken aback at the authority in his voice. Gene nodded seriously and grabbed my arm, clearly unaware that I was going nowhere. I huffed as I watched the two scatter into the forest, suddenly chilled to the bone.

"Stay in your foxholes! STAY IN YOUR FOXHOLES!" I heard Buck's voice echo through the trees. Shivering, I clutched onto Gene's arm. "Something's not right about this," I said carefully, eyes skirting the perimeter for the one thing I didn't want to see. Gene put a wary hand on my back. "What are you feeling?"

I pressed a cold hand to the side of my face, surprise running through me when I felt the heat coming off of my skin. "I feel...dizzy?" I leaned back against the walls of my foxhole as Gene looked down on me in confusion. "I feel nauseated. Something's not right about this." I repeated the phrase, unable to put into words what I was feeling. It was like we were inside a snow globe, and some prankster kid had come along and flipped us upside down. Blood was rushing to my face as I stood up, completely disoriented.

"INCOMING!" I heard Buck yell again, and a shell landing right next to our foxhole. Gene and I were thrown back faster than I had time to process what was happening, and I was painfully flipped backwards over the lip of the foxhole, my spine aching in protest as I rolled to a stop. I lay there gasping for air, all the wind knocked out of me, and I felt Gene grab my feet and drag me back towards him. "Eloise!?" he was calling out worriedly, and I lurched my body forward as I got nearer to the foxhole, grabbing onto Gene's hands to slip back down. He threw a protective arm over me as we huddled down. "Are you alright?" he screamed over the sound, and I nodded, completely disoriented.

Faster than ever before, faster than I ever realized artillery could be, the shells hit one after another, sending dirt and branches and trees flying every which way over Gene and I. We heard calls for a medic, but what could we do? We were stuck, and I was shaking uncontrollably. Something was close to snapping within me, I could feel myself teetering on the edge. And the worst part, the most devastating, absolutely harrowing part, was that Joe and Bill were out there. _Please, _I thought and prayed to anything that was listening. _Please let them have made it to a foxhole. _My limbs began to lock as I was pushed further downward into the ground, the artillery never letting up, Gene screaming strings of curses above me. And then like it had started, it stopped. _  
_

The world around me sounded muted, and I realized that the blast had landed so near to me that it had blown out my eardrums. I rubbed my ears halfheartedly, vaguely remembering the sensation from before in Carentan. I held my nose and swallowed hard, hoping to pop my sinuses back into order, but to no luck. A hand grabbed the back of my jacket and was hauling me up. I turned to see Gene with fear, true fear radiating from his eyes as he yelled something at me. "I can't hear, Gene!" I said in what I hoped was a loud voice, but he just pulled me out of the foxhole forcefully. Something about the upward motion jerked my hearing back, and with a loud _woosh _the blood rushed painfully back into my head and I groaned. Gene was not having it. We were just about to run off into the left flank, where we heard distant cries for a medic, when I heard Buck scream. I froze, petrified as my mind slowly registered that Buck was to our right, the right that Joe and Bill had ran towards to help Joe Toye. Where a cry for a medic was being called.

And I was running, and Gene was running behind me, and I saw Buck standing in front of me without a helmet, looking at something on the ground. And while I was running to him seven different voices were screaming in my head, and I couldn't make sense of any of them except for the one that kept saying, _I don't want to see, I don't want to see, please I don't want to -_

But I saw.

Toye and Bill lay motionless in a crumpled heap, limbs entangled and blood splattered everywhere. It took me a moment to realize that there were only three legs among them, and one of Bill's was torn up beyond all recognition. My mind whirled as Gene came to rest beside me. Toye flopped an arm back, the sudden movement making me jump, and looked up at the three of us. "Doc?" he called out pitifully, and Gene ran towards them. But I was looking for someone else. And when I glanced up at his eyes, I saw that his gaze was trained on something off to the side. I swallowed, heart beating fast at all the possibilities of what I would see. When I caught sight of a pair of feet twisted haphazardly, halfway obscured by a downed tree, my stomach dropped out from under me.

And for the first time in the war, I had no idea what to do. Gene sat in front of me trying to stop the bleeding from Toye's stump of a leg, while Bill had propped himself up to rest against the base of a tree. I knew the right thing to do was to attend to Bill in front of me first, but I didn't want to do the right thing. Gene looked up and must have seen the expression on my face, because his determined look flickered for a moment as he studied me. "Go!" he said, and that was all it took.

I must have run, I don't remember. But I remember standing there with Buck behind me, who had followed me. Joe lay there, twisted over himself, face down in the snow. Blood soaked the perimeter around his chest, more red than I had ever seen. Numbly, I dropped down onto my knees next to him, hands shaking as I gently clutched the folds of his jacket and turned him over. When his arm flopped out of the way, I saw what had stained the ground red: a brutal shard of a tree branch, sharpened to a point, was lodged in his chest. I sat there as I took in his pale face, totally relaxed as if he was asleep. My hands hovered over his body, afraid to touch him, afraid to really learn whether he would wake up if I did. But I tentatively reached down and pressed my fingers underneath his jaw, and felt my body go slack as I registered an erratic heartbeat.

_Okay. Okay. Deep breath. _I dug in my pack, whipping out a morphine syrette and stabbing it into his right arm, and clipped it to his jacket. I let myself panic for a few more moments, and then forced myself to go cold. "Buck, radio for a jeep!" I called back to him, and when I heard no movement, I turned to see him staring down at Joe, completely frozen. "God-fucking-damn it," I cursed under my breath, getting frustrated. Just then I saw Lipton emerge from the trees and stare in horror at Gene and Toye. "Lipton!" I yelled out, not recognizing my own voice as he jerked up. "Jeep! NOW!" I screamed, feeling myself become livid at the possibility that I could lose Joe because no one was adequate enough to go for help. Malarkey came running towards us, looking from left to right incredulously, and bent down to help Gene.

I heard a stirring behind me, and I whipped my head around to see Joe waking up, trying in vain to push himself off the ground. "No, you don't," I said firmly, pushing him gently back down as I hovered over his face. As his eyes focused in on my face, he grimaced in pain and let out a shuddering breath. "Hi," he rasped out, voice scratchy. I grabbed his hand and entwined my fingers with his, resting it under my chin. "Hi," I replied, voice low and still, my forehead lined with worried. I sat very still as we both looked at each other, taking in as much as we could. I looked down at the branch, wondering how soon the medics would get here, afraid to try to dislodge it since it was probably preventing him from bleeding out. _Bleeding out._ I shuddered and closed my eyes.

"I was gonna take you out West," his scratchy voice rang out suddenly, and I opened my eyes in surprise. "'Cause I know you've never been out there, and I wanted you to see the desert and California -"

"Shut the fuck up, stop talking," I said, my voice cracking. "Don't you start doing that 'saying goodbye' shit. You're not going anywhere as long as I'm around." I clenched his hand tighter in my grasp.

He ignored me, as always. "You're so beautiful, you know? Even when you think you aren't." He broke his hand free of my grasp and shakily rested it on the side of my face, and I held it there, dreading where this was going. "You'll find someone to replace me. Have those four kids. You'll be okay."

I heard Lip come back with men and stretchers behind me, and I leaned down to look him square in the eyes. "The only person I'll be having those four kids with is you, you bastard," I said as my voice and facade broke in full, and I screwed my eyes shut as I let the tears that had been threatening to erupt spill over. I wiped at my eyes with a rough jerk of my arm, turning as I heard Lip come towards us with the others. "Alright, Joe, let's get you up," he said calmly, eyes flickering over to where I was crouched down next to him. I helped the men gently lift him, avoiding the piece of branch as best as a could as we maneuvered him onto the stretcher. Joe kept his eyes on me as we moved, and on impulse I reached out to grab his hand one more time, but I froze. I walked with them as I entered the clearing, the shakes resuming as my breath started to come faster and the shock wore off. Joe shot me one last sad smile before they disappeared through the trees and I forced myself not to follow.

My face, my hands, my feet, all of me felt numb. When I turned around, every man was looking at me with a mixture of shock and pity, and I busied myself with helping Don and Gene with Toye. They watched me carefully as I sank down to their level. "You alright?" Gene asked me gently, and Don avoided my eyes. "No," I replied curtly, grabbing in my pockets for another morphine syrette and stabbing Toye gently with it when I clipped it to his jacket.

"Hey Joe I told ya I'd be you back to the States," Bill called out as the men walked off with him, and I clenched my jaw to stop the screams of rage that were threatening to escape from my chest. I rose up abruptly as Lip came to stand near me. I saw him reach out to touch me in my peripheral vision, but he stayed his hand as if he thought better of it.

Luz came stomping up to us, eyes frozen over in shock. "Hey, Lip!" he called out, and we both turned to look at him. "How's Buck?" Lip asked, by George's eyes were glued to Toye's butchered leg where he lay on the ground. "Luz!" Lip said, and jerked George out of his trance. "How's Buck?"

"He's fine," he said, but Lip frowned. "You sure?" he asked, and George shrugged. "Yeah, he's fine...I think you should probably go talk to him, huh?" George turned to look over his shoulder, and I peered over to see Buck sitting by himself with his face in his hands. "Alright," Lip said, walking towards him, but I held out a hand to stop him. "No," I said, and I cringed at how defeated my voice sounded. "I'll go." Both men looked at me warily, but I avoided their gaze as walked towards him slowly.

He didn't acknowledge me as I knelt down slowly beside him, or when I put a comforting hand on his knee. "Buck?" I asked quietly, detached, shutting down my pain and sending it to float somewhere inside of me until I could be alone. He looked up at me through his fingers, and I shifted to sit on the log next to him, rubbing a hand on his back. I couldn't think of anything to say to him, but I didn't have to: after a moment's silence, he reached over and gently took my hand in his. And we sat there, dead eyed and shattering into a million pieces, watching the snow drift down so irreverently peaceful onto the dark splotches of blood that marked the place where our lives had spiraled into darkness.

* * *

I rode down with him to the aid station. We didn't say much on the way. Gene had sent me with a pretense that we needed more morphine, but I knew for a fact we had extra stashed in Spina's pack. All the men watched me walk past them and turned away embarrassed when I caught them staring. Towards the end of the woods, I saw Lew talking to Winters, and when he turned to look at me, the sadness in his eyes made me want to curl up in a dark corner where no one would ever look at me like that again. He tried to hold me back, say something to me, but I hopped in the jeep with Buck before he had the chance to grab my arm. "Go," I had commanded the driver, and we sped past a world that held nothing that interested me anymore.

Joe, Bill, and Toye had been down at the aid station for only a couple of hours before the higher-ups had made the executive decision to move Buck off the line. _Trench foot_, they wrote on the official report, but we all knew it was something deeper. You couldn't diagnose a broken heart.

I climbed slowly out of the jeep, hooking my arm in Buck's and looking around, observing the lack of color. There was no rhyme or reason to the aid station. "Look's like we'll just have to find them ourselves," I said, my heart kicking into overdrive. I had to find him, I had to make sure he was safe and that they had taken the plank of wood out of his chest. Buck and I ambled slowly towards tent openings, peeking inside and searching until we found the right one. It was deathly quiet inside, and I swallowed as we entered.

We found the three behind a shabbily hung army blanket that doubled as a curtain. All three of them appeared to be heavily knocked out, and I went to check on Bill and Toye before I sat down next to Joe. They had stopped Toye's bleeding, thank God, but he was so pale it made my heart skip a beat. I gently plucked up his wrist with my fingers, and sighed when I felt a steady pulse beating underneath. Bill's leg was in terrible shape. _They'll amputate_, I realized with a grimace.

They had taken the piece of wood out of him, and he was heavily bandaged, blood already seeping through. I quietly sat down next to him on an overturned crate. And I sat there, just watching him breathe, making sure he was breathing. Because I would be damned if this man was going to slip away from me that easily, in an _aid station _of all places.

I probably sat there for an hour. Buck didn't say a word to me the entire time, he just curled up on his side and fell asleep, shuddering every few minutes. I wondered if he would have nightmares like my father did, the kind of night terrors that woke him up screaming in the night and clutching for a rifle that was no longer there. I stared at the wall, thinking nothing, being nothing, until I felt someone touch my hand and I started.

Joe was looking up at me, bleary-eyed and disoriented. I held his hand in mine as he tried to clear his throat. "Hey, baby," he said sleepily, and the wave of relief I felt was so strong that for a moment, I had to close my eyes and send a silent prayer of thanks to God. "Hi," I whimpered out, trying to regain some composure and failing miserably. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," he replied, closing his eyes again. "I feel like I'm floating in water."

"That's all the morphine," I said, getting my voice back. "I'm just happy you're alive."

"Me too," he said groggily, peeking up at me. "'Cause what I said about you having permission to marry some asshole and have his kids? That was a lie. If I was dead, I'd haunt the shit out of him."

I snorted through my nose, breaking into a smile even though I didn't want to. How so typical Joe, snarky as ever even on death's doorstep. "I believe you," I whispered as he squeezed my hand. His eyes flickered back and forth across my face. "How long do I have you for?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to be going back to the line 'as soon as I possibly can'," I said, pursing my lips at the thought of being alone out there in my own personal hell. Joe didn't miss the way my face changed. "I don't want to go."

"That makes two of us," he said tetchily and let out a long sigh. "I think I've had enough of this war. I think I want to go back to the States and start living again."

"You already know what I want," I replied, and he smiled. "Brownstone, right?" he asked, and I shook my head as I grinned. "How did you know?"

"It's your style," he said as he shrugged, and then winced. "Ow. Fuck."

"I need to go back," I said sadly. His grip tightened on my hand. "No. I don't want you out there alone," he said gruffly, and I reached forward to brush a lock of his hair out of his eyes. "I'm hardly alone," I replied, but he shook his head. "You know what I mean. It's not safe," he said in a rush, eyes boring into mine. "I'll be alright," I tried to sound convincing, but he wasn't having it. Nevertheless, he didn't resist when I withdrew my hand and stood up. "_Je t'aime, mon âme,_" I said quietly, and he smiled. _"__Ich liebe dich mehr,"_ he muttered back to me, and with one last look I took a deep breath and walked out of his partition.

"You two are disgusting," I heard Bill's voice call out as I walked past his cot, and I paused and smiled. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Oh cut the shit, I know I'm gonna lose the leg. I'm shipping off to surgery soon, and then back to the States, or so they say," he replied, closing his eyes wearily. "But I have a favor to ask ya, one from your old pal Gonnorrhea." I waited as he took a breath and looked up at me. "Can I be in the wedding?"

"Oh my God, of course," I groaned and pressed a hand to my forehead. "Yes, you can be in whatever wedding you are referring to that I refuse to acknowledge." Bill smiled at me contentedly and winked. "Thanks, sweetheart," he grumbled, and I leaned down to pat his shoulder. "You'd better write me, asshole, or you get nothing," I said, trying to sound flippant but my sadness leaked through. "Of course I'm gonna write ya. I gotta make sure you're keeping that dumb Jew in check." He laughed at my glare and grabbed my hand. "I'll see you on the other side, Princess. Alright?"

"Alright. I'll come and find you when I get there," I replied with a small smile. He smiled a weary grin back at me, and with one last look behind me, I exited the tent. The outside was stark and unforgiving, the exact opposite of what had comforted me back in that tent. I shook as I wrapped my arms around myself, looking up the hill and into the dark woods that lay before me.

The driver was waiting by his jeep, smoking a rare Lucky Strike. "Ready to go back, sergeant?" he asked me.

_Never. _"Yes," I replied curtly, and climbed into the passenger side. The engine roared into the twilight as it carried me back into my own heart of darkness.

* * *

**I'm in self-imposed time out for doing terrible things to the characters I love for the sake of plot development. **

**:( x 1,264,284,584. **


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